I was thrown back to the decade before when we first started packing babies into the mountains to hunt.
I reminisced of all the years since. The memories blurred my eyes.
Now, 10 years later, she carried the gun, her hand in her daddy’s…
We do the hard thing of packing up our kids, slowing down our steps, and taking them with us because hunting is about so much more; it’s the memories made, the lessons taught, the laughter heard and the tears wiped as challenges are overcome and success is celebrated.
Many women hunters thrive on being told how tough they are and that they can be “one of the guys…”
I do not do it to be tough or to “be one of the guys” …
because I am not.
I am one of the girls.
I am a woman.
And I am a Hunter
A place where they are free to learn and grow; where they can discover who God made them to be; their dreams, their passions, their gifts and talents.
This is their classroom.
We put in the time, energy and money to harvest an animal… But what happens after the tag is punched? What happens after we pull the meat off the side of the mountain?
The longer I stood there, the deeper I saw.
There, before me was so much more than a table.
There before me stood my life…
ALL OF CREATION SPEAKS HIS NAME