Black Hills Christmas Trees--and God's Tender Mercies

 Friday our family took a couple risks. First, we made a plan to go cut a few Christmas trees after my chemo treatment. 

Very risky. I wasn't sure I'd be up to going, but usually I can at least ride along, and I knew I needed something to look forward to. Up in the national forest, you can cut your own tree (plus up to four more) for just $10 each. Two other missionaries had asked us to cut trees for them, so we were out for three trees. 

The children, who had driven separately, scouted ahead and found a spot that showed potential for providing trees.  

It was even near the road, across a somewhat level space and up a bit of a hill. I thought if I went slowly, I could probably get there, and I did! I usually am in better shape immediately after chemo than two or three days later when I'm crashed and sick and achy and fatigued. 

I wore my Christmas hat--the only sparkle of red along that day! Together, we all chose a tree that we agreed upon. That would be ours.

Hannah decided she was going to chop the first one down, and she did!

There were several acceptable trees literally within yards of each other! It was as if God had planted them there years ago, just for this excursion by a little family whose mom was not up to hiking far but who wanted to be part of the outdoor excursion in God's beautiful creation! Next to this little patch of young trees was a large area that appeared to have been burned by forest fire some time back. Just a rather ugly area of dead trees, brown grass, and destruction. But then there were the trees--just what we needed!

Even more than we needed! "Would there be someone who doesn't have a tree that would like one among our native people?" I wondered out loud, after the guys discovered more than one nest hidden (or not so hidden) in the branches of different trees. 

We thought of someone right away, and chopped another tree down. Then we felt sure we'd find a second one to give to, and chopped a fifth tree. "Five is the limit," Jonathan reminded us. He, Danny, and Hannah hauled them to the little trailer the children had pulled along behind the van. 

We loaded those  as dusk deepened, but who couldn't notice the moon coming up in the sky? It was such a lovely evening, despite my fatigue and weakness. I thought back to earlier in the day.

While the children journeyed to Rapid City to meet Jonathan and me who had arrived earlier to Monument Cancer Care Center, I was sitting alone in my hospital room. I was getting my port poked (extra painfully this time) and hooked up to one infusion after another, while I thought about the bills piling up beyond what we are able to bear. I turned to God's Word, reading in my lighter-weight brown KJV Bible that I take when I'm away. I'm in the middle of the longest Psalm on earth, 119.

"I know, O Lord, that thy judgments are right, and that thou in faithfulness hast afflicted me. Let, I pray thee, thy merciful kindness be for my comfort, according to thy word unto thy servant. Let thy tender mercies come unto me, that I may live; for thy law is my delight."

I was tempted to think maybe God had afflicted me with this cancer because I wasn't doing something right, but is that what the verse meant to leave me with? I wasn't sure, so I went on to the next part that I could get hold of. 

"Let thy merciful kindness be for my comfort." And truly, He had been that comfort to us once again, on a chemo day. 

Up there in the middle of the pines, Jonathan and I remembered how the last time I got these nasty chemos, God had provided a beautiful fish to eat, from a little boy who was about to toss it back into the water.  

 

"The next time we came for treatment," I told the children out loud, "we brought fishing rod and supplies and Jonathan tried to find another fish. But we didn't even see any!"

"I saw a few finally near the end of our time at the park," Jonathan added. But we couldn't catch one to save our lives!

"God knew how blue Jonathan was that day after my chemos," I told the children, "and He provided a fish. But the next time, I only got herceptin and not the bad chemos, so I wasn't feeling as horrible, and we didn't need the cheering up as much."

 

I noticed my children listening quietly, attentively.

"God tells us," I added, "to tell our children about His works, so we are telling you how faithful God has been to us."

 

 

Coming down from the Black Hills, we saw these beautiful lights ahead and pulled into the parking lot of this lakeside park. I loved the colors and the star and the lake and the geese chattering to each other in the water.

Jonathan got a night picture of some of them. We stood there for a while, just enjoying the beauty, noticing a lit cross in the distance, and thinking about God's tender mercies. 

And now, could we be part of His plan in providing mercies to needy friends on the reservation? The next post will tell about that!