Those of you who know me IRL (in real life, for those uninitiated ones) probably know that I'm sick of hunting season. Sick. Of. It. I'm tired of camouflage clothes. I'm tired of guns. I'm tired of all the stuff lying around my house that can't be put away because it's for the next hunting trip. And while I'm very grateful that Sound Man wants to put meat in my freezer, I'm so over hunting season. My husband knows this. He knows and is patient with me. I am not a hunter, nor will I ever be a hunter, so he is patient with my groanings and complainings. Not that he likes them, but he is patient with them, as vocal as I may be with them. And I am vocal.
He and Kiddo left this morning at 4:00 a.m. on the dot. In 11 degree cold, no less, for the last hunt of the season. After stopping by Wal-mart to pick up a portable heater, they headed down through North Mississippi to the happy hunting grounds. Their route takes them through Holly Springs, past Rust College. Except this morning their route was interrupted by smoke billowing from the roof of someone's home. Sound Man saw the smoke and knew that whoever was inside didn't know what was going on. In a split second decision, he pulled the truck over and told Kiddo to stay put.
He ran up to the front porch and beat on the door and windows to try to wake the family up. A woman came to the door and was able to get her family out of the house before the smoke got too bad. The attic was in flames by the time my husband realized the gas needed to be turned off, and in spite of the danger he faced going back into the house, he and a relative of the family ran back in to try to shut it off. He said they couldn't find it before they were overcome with smoke and had to come out.
The family got out safely. Chuckling, he told me that the woman told her mom on the phone, "I didn't know why in the world this white man was beatin' on my window!" The area around Rust College is a predominantly black neighborhood. Yet my husband didn't let the difference in his skin color stop him from helping someone. I realized when he told me what she said that, believe it or not, there are people in this world who would have kept on driving, simply because they knew that most likely someone with a different skin color lived in that house. Sickening.
I have been crying since I talked to my husband. I can't really pinpoint one reason why. I have so many emotions rolling around my heart right now. First, I'm so thankful for my godly husband who put his plans on hold to save someone he didn't know. What did that show my son? Oh, I'm crying so much harder now, because I just realized that in my son's eyes, his daddy grew about 6 feet. Sound Man has always been his hero, but so much more, now. I'm also crying at Kiddo's bravery. He was told to stay put in the truck, across the street from the house, until Dad came back. He watched the whole thing unfold. By himself. Now, as a nine-year old boy, he was plenty safe, but he has not ever been put in a situation like that that I can remember. He's an only child and has been kept pretty sheltered. But he did exactly like Dad said and stayed put, even though he was scared. He grew up a little sitting in the cab of that truck.
And the last reason I'm crying is this: what if my husband had listened to all the griping and whining I've been doing about hunting? What if he had acquiesced and hadn't gone this morning? Would someone have been driving by at just the right moment? Would anyone have seen the smoke before it was too late? God has divine appointments in our lives, no matter if we like the circumstances or not. I'm hoping I will take every opportunity to see things from this perspective from now on.
Sound Man is pretty shaken up, smells like an ashtray, and will be coughing a little today. And even though he's already out at the deer stand, he's still my Hero. And forever will be.