As I start writing this particular blog post, I am sitting in my favorite deer stand. It is a warm evening on the 1st of December. My best deer rifle (Remington 30.06)  is sporting a new scope. Thanks to my brother-in-law Mike, who picked it up at an auction. It is a vast improvement over the one I had before.

Today, I am not sure if I am hunting deer or hunting peace.

If a deer walks out, our freezer is going to be stocked with the kind of meat we eat most.

If not, I will have written some–and maybe found a little bit of peace sitting here with falling leaves and the sounds of a chipmunk scurrying around.

Peace is a precious commodity these days.

I keep thinking some things are going to get easier or better.

I keep being wrong.

Peace can be mighty elusive.

Especially so when it butts up hard against grief.

Grief isn’t a quick fix process.

If is a hard, hard job.

It is a long, long process.

If is a journey that ebbs and flows.

For whatever reason, Cole’s birthday last week was harder than the two before. Maybe reality is getting more entrenched. Maybe I just miss my boy.

But the truth is rather brutal.

All I have left is pictures and memories. And the feeling that a piece of me is always missing. I doubt I will ever be at peace with that, even as I strive to find peace, however elusive.

Saturday, Conner helped me plant a Ginkgo tree. It was Becki’s birthday reminder for Cole. I am grateful for her desire to help us honor and remember him.  

And I am hopeful.

I am hopeful that one day in the future this tree will serve as a gentle reminder of the love of a daddy for his boy. A love that will never be diminished by death, time, or absence…

May God be with us all.

Les Ferguson, Jr.