The time I almost died.

It was the end of my life as a 12-year-old.

There I was, sitting in a tree. It was dark.

I heard the rustling behind me. Too scared to look.

I’d heard the stories about how vicious wild bobcats can be.

And I was convinced they were stalking me.

I knew that at any time, I was going to be the guest of honor at their feeding frenzy.

The Annual Trip

Every year, the men in the family took a motorhome to San Angelo, Texas for two whole weeks of deer hunting on a sheep farm. And when I turned 12, it was my time to join them.?

It was so cool. The motorhome drove up to the school on a chilly November afternoon. I ran out with 2 weeks of homework tucked under my arm and eagerly entered into my greatest adventure ever.?

The wild, wild west. I had my cowboy hat. I had my boots. Throwing my homework into a cabinet (never to be looked at again), I took my seat and off we went.

The drive from Ohio to San Angelo was accomplished nonstop. There were plenty of drivers and we traveled, pausing only for gas along the way. To this day, I can remember waking up in the middle of the night and walking to the front of the motorhome looking out at the beautiful lights of St. Louis and the magnificent arch all lit up.

After several naps, tales of previous hunting trips, card games, and snacks, we finally arrived in Texas. It was still dark and early in the morning. We could see the twinkling eyes of the deer bedded down beside the road. Excitement and anticipation were the emotions of the moment.

Scrambled Eggs and Jack Rabbits

With the motorhome parked in the middle of the hundred-acre property, this was the daily routine:

• Get up at 4am and have scrambled eggs and toast.
• Load the farmer’s truck and be taken to our designated hunting spot to wait out the morning darkness. Some of us in trees, some in the bushes, and some along fence posts.
• When the sun appears, giving enough daylight, start looking for deer.
• Mid-morning, a few designated members start walking as they attempt to “drive” the deer to the rest of the hunters.
• Then back for lunch, a nap, and a little jack rabbit hunting before dinner.
• An hour or so before dusk, it is back out to our spots to await any other deer before the sun finally gives in and slips beneath the horizon.
• Then the farmer comes and picks us up and takes us back to the motorhome for a campfire, stories, and an early bedtime.

Alone and Vulnerable

One morning, after being dropped off at my designated tree, I climbed to a stable branch as I heard the truck disappear around a bend in the narrow path.

Silence.

After a few minutes, the fate of my life began to reveal itself. I was not alone.

I heard rustling behind me. Too scared to look. The stories of vicious, wild bobcats danced all over my sanity.

A mere few feet away was a pack of bobcats devising a plan to rip me piece by piece and eat me for breakfast. This I was convinced.

They were vicious. Texas bobcats were like no other bobcat in the world. They had red eyes, so help me God, red eyes. And sharp fangs.

They were merciless. I was paralyzed.

My fingers wrapped so tightly around my shotgun, it’s a wonder I was ever able to pry them loose.

The sun slowly offered a little light. Then some more. And some more.

The rustling behind me persisted. I remember thinking to myself, “Ok, at least I’ll be eaten alive in the daylight,” as if to generate some sort of comfort.

____

Somehow, I mustered enough courage to slowly, ever so slowly, turn my body around to make eye contact with my killers.

I carefully shifted my weight, lifted my leg around a limb and positioned myself to see…

A pack of cows grazing on the grass.

Understanding

There's a great passage in Scripture where we are told not lean on our own understanding. Instead, we are to trust in the Lord with all our heart.

How often I get all worked up over situations that I believe I understand. But truth wins out and it’s nothing like I imagined it.

But in a tree in the middle of a sheep farm in San Angelo, Texas, the damage was done. I was paralyzed. I was filled with fear. I wasted an entire Texas morning in the dark. Instead of reveling in the fact that I was a true cowboy, I was riveted by my most certain demise. I had let my imagination run wild - in the wrong direction.

Have you ever done something like this before? I bet you have.

We all lean on our own understanding in situations. But it's risky.

The Ethical Skeptic, a Twitter account, addressing the current state of affairs globally, says it this way,

“Under a condition of extreme propaganda coming from many sides, the ethical skeptic applies epoché. Not neutrality or middle ground per se, but rather suspended silence. Especially if one cannot 'go and look' for themself. Always remember that 'critical thinking' will most often refuse to drive a conclusion. Beware of 'critical thinkers' who have a habit of enforcing conclusions (even if based upon apparent likelihood or plausibility).”

Better to suspend than to jump to conclusions and waste precious time and energy.

The bobcats you fear so much are most likely mild-mannered milking cows.

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