Look Beyond the Cover

by Rollie J.

The drive across the northern tier of my beloved Minnesota was stunning. It began in the utter blackness of early morning with the fresh scent of damp leaves filling my lungs with clean crisp fall air as I walked to my vehicle. Driving east on Highway 10, I was a front-row witness to the birthing of an incredible brand-new day. The distant horizon began to lighten at first in colorless imperceptible changes. Passing Hawley and Audubon colors slowly returned as yellows, oranges and pinks seeped back into the sky. Moving past Detroit Lakes, a full-blown auburn sunrise blinded me with a glowing orb of the sun blasting through my dirty windshield.

I flipped through the scanning button of my radio trying to find some appropriate music to match the magnificence of the day’s birth, but even my two Christian radio stations played songs that were too much noise and not enough reverence for what I was experiencing. I silenced the radio. The solitude and quiet poured over me like a balm for my soul and I settled into the simple journey and magnificent slide show that lay before me.

God was showing off on this day. Fall colors were like fireworks exploding all around me, but these fireworks lasted longer. Aspens and ash dappled the landscape with bright golds and yellows accenting the more subdued and modest oaks who, like a good Lutheran, would only show modest shades of brown, tan and mauve. The real show-offs of the day were the maples and sumacs that lined the highway with fascinating bright reds, purples and flaming orange. I could only smile and give thanks. 

I was on my way to northern Minnesota for a very quick three-day bear hunt that I’d arranged several months previously with an outfitter I’d found online. I knew virtually nothing about where I was headed or whom I was hiring. I had entered the trip with low expectations and yet optimistic hopes. Complicating my pre-trip expectations was one not so small caveat.

The evening before my departure I received a phone call with the number indicating it was my outfitter. As I answered the phone a woman’s voice spoke. “Hi Rollie, this is Jeanette, I’m Tom’s wife…” awkward pause. “umm I just wanted to call and be straight forward and honest with you…” another awkward pause… “Well… um my husband was just taken to jail yesterday … we’ve been having some problems with the DNR and so now he has to serve a 90-day sentence. We’re still set up for you to come and hunt, and my 17-year old son is ready to take over and guide for you. We understand if you don’t want to come, but just wanted to shoot straight with you.”

I barely skipped a beat and said I was set on coming as I’d been dreaming of and needing this break to be in the woods. Besides, 90% of my time would be me sitting in a blind by my self anyway, what would it matter to me if he was in jail. “No, I’d still like to come. See you tomorrow!” was my enthusiastic response. Thinking to myself, “this should be fun!” only added to the weird unknowns of what lay ahead.

Following the instructions from my gal pal Siri, I followed a long, narrow dirt road that snaked through a tangled forest blindly taking me to who knows where. The twisting road finally brought me to a large opening, and I had arrived. As I opened the door to my vehicle seven dogs raced to greet me with threatening barks at first and then wagging tailss that begged for playtime. There standing over enormous piles of bear bait covered with old blue tarps was Jason, the son, who greeted me politely with a firm handshake. His was dressed in a flannel shirt and dirty black jeans that held a long sheath knife on each hip along with a chain and attached wallet. I thought to myself, “This kid was a quintessential back-woods wood tick.” The movie theme song of Dueling Banjos began playing in my head.

As I looked around the yard I was overwhelmed by the quantity of stuff. 10- 12 vehicles in various states of disrepair. Toys, motorcycles, dirt-bikes, go-carts, lawnmowers, boats, trailers, power washers, snow blowers, all appearing to have been used and then abandoned as grass grew in and around each one. Big stuff, little stuff, a knife here, a lantern or four there, an old compound bow in this bush, a half of a dozen tree stands, lawn chairs, buckets, a motorcycle helmet and so much more all laying out about exposed to the elements. Four or five campers and RV’s dotted the yard looking run down and in disarray. A hot tub sat in front of the house partially filled with green slimy water. I felt a bit disoriented as I tried to get my bearings not sure what I’d gotten myself into.

Jason and I loaded up my rig with three buckets of bait and headed off to check some sites. To my surprise Jason proved to be a very polite and kind young soul. He was a junior in high school, but for the past couple years had chosen online school having had problems fitting in and keeping up with the public-school crowd. As we cruised the countryside, I became aware of a pungent odor, and I wasn’t sure if it was the bear bait or Jason.

Later that day Jason shared that he was putting camouflage to his new AR-15 rifle. I offered that I’d like to see it. He graciously invited me into their home to take a look. I wasn’t quite prepared for what lay before me.

The very tiny log cabin had been built by his grandparents and Jason’s dad had built on the small entryway. As I stepped through the entryway the strong odor of urine blasted me, most likely from the dogs. The entryway was filled with piles of stuff, and one large, opened bag of dog food lay spread out on the floor… free for the taking when the dogs got hungry. Only a couple dim, yellowed bulbs lit the tiny and overcrowded living room that was dominated by broken down, darkened sofas and recliners covered in dog hair. Various dusty animal mounts filled the walls and corners, along with more piles of stuff. A rusted and collapsing kitchen sink lay alongside an overcrowded kitchen counter. The floors were nothing more than worn and weary plywood with traces of linoleum scattered here and there. The home was dark, dreary, and depressing at best.

I left the home grateful for the outside fresh air and filled with a conflicting bag of emotions from judgment and condemnation to bottom-line, in-the-gut compassion and concern for these people. My head was swimming.

That evening after a long and dull evening of sitting in a blind, I was met by Jeanette standing in the darkened driveway waiting for me. She suggested we head to town and have a burger. I soon met Jack, the ten-year-old son and Suzanna their high school senior. We piled into the packed sedan and headed off for a late supper at the local town bar and grill.

As we sat for dinner, I found myself in the company of a very loving family. Rarely have I encountered three such well-mannered and polite children. “Pleases” and “thank yous” abounded. Jeanette turned out to be a very loving mother and gave lots of solid guidance and discipline to her three children. Suzanna loved her brothers and showered them with kisses and hugs. She played in the local high school marching band and worked part-time as a personal care attendant. She also loved the outdoors and did lots of camping through her local Venture crew. Jack proved to be a fun-loving, hyper, squirrely, and affectionate young kid. He was non-stop movement and chatter, and throughout my stay offered me several chest-crushing bear hugs. He too did online school and spent most of his days hunting and roaming the woods with his grandparents. It was rare to see him in the yard without his shotgun slung over his shoulder and a knife in his hands. My kind of dude for sure.

With no bear sighted in my short three-day hunt, the long drive home in the darkness Saturday night gave me lots of time to ponder and process. The juxtaposition of so many contrasting perceptions had my head shaking and smiling with laughter for all that I’d experienced.

Part of me pondered what was all this about? What was my role here? Was I being called to do something for or with this family? What brought me here in the first place? Was there a reason for my being present with this family? Had I learned anything of value or importance in these three days? What was God trying to teach me in these three days with these humble people? Firm answers remained out of my mental grasp.

The word judgment kept popping in my head. I’m realizing that I am quick to judge others based on first encounters or first impressions. I’m quick to assign categories and a thumbs up or down based on looks, appearances, clothing, behavior, or possessions. I had quickly judged this family from what I saw of their home and yard, and yet they had bored a hole in my heart with love and affection. I had been welcomed with caring affection, warmth, and friendship. My mind kept going back to Jack, standing in the light of my headlights, waiting in the driveway to bid me farewell. Jeanette had said I couldn’t leave until Jack had said goodbye. A 30-second bear hug from Jack was my parting gift. My judgments now seemed to turn back towards me.

Why is it that we are so quick to judge? So hasty to assess and categorize others? So swift to criticize based on outward appearances? So quick to condemn or belittle? So abrupt to assign value?

It matters not whether it’s a middle school physically abusive bully or the high school mean girl. It’s the same for us that walk the streets of downtown and look down upon and judge the homeless on the street corner with contempt and disgust. It’s the same when we judge our neighbor based on skin color, nationality, or religion. And worse yet is when judgment infects a church or individual with self-righteousness, and feelings of moral superiority. Add a divisive topic like abortion, pro-choice, climate change, or sexuality and we’ve added gasoline to the fire. Might as well throw in wearing a mask or not wearing a mask to the toxic mix these days! Think you’re not judgmental? Take an internal assessment of how you react to and mentally dialogue about others in the opposing political party.

Regardless of who, or what the topic of the day is, we all judge others. We judge out of our strong need to make ourselves feel better than the other. We judge to build ourselves up, make us feel superior, or enhance our fragile egos. “I’m right, they’re wrong.” “I’m better, they’re worse.” “I’m good, they’re bad.” We play a devious and self-deceptive mental game of putting down another, to build up ourselves. What an incredibly empty and hollow game we play. You might fool yourself, but you can’t fool God.

My time at bear camp has shown me that I’ve got significant internal work to do. I’ve got some big time confessing to do. And then… I can’t wait to get back to bear camp, and read more of the real book, for which I had judged by the cover.

-- Rollie J.