THE CHRISTMAS GOOSE

While on the phone with our son, Michael I asked if he remembered goose hunting at Tulelake in California? His response was immediate and enthusiastic. “oh Yes, Mom, the clear cold nights, snuggling down in sleeping bags. Our old umbrella tent. Geese flying in, honking, silhouetted against a full moon. We watched them come.
“It was beautiful wasn’t it Michael?” - So beautiful we didn’t mind shivering in the cold, breathing out great gusts of frosty air, our mouths open in wonder.
Our family had come to Tulelake to hunt geese. Michael and Dad were the hunters. Lana, our daughter and I came to cook on the camp stove, scrub dirty dishes in a kettle of steaming suds, air out sleeping bags and sweep the tent floor. We hoped this effort would produce a juicy, fat goose for our Christmas dinner. I had prayed while still at home that we would be successful hunting. But now I felt a little ambivalent after experiencing last night’s glorious sights and sounds as the birds we hunted returned to their natural habitat by the lake.
In early morning I fed our hunters a substantial breakfast and Lana and I waved “goodbye” just as daybreak arrived. Guns cracked and banged, accompanied by shouts from hunters and shrill whistles for game dogs. We wondered if Dad and Michael had brought down a goose as we scrubbed cooking pots and dirty dishes. Next we put our sleeping bags back in the tent. Activity was accompanied by fewer shotgun blasts as the sun rose higher in a clear sky. Lana and I brought out favorite books, ready to read and wait. Then the unexpected happened! I stood up, looking intently at the raised, man made road bridging the tulles. It seemed covered with light. It was just wide enough for two vehicles to pass each other, and tulles covered the area on either side. An insistent voice spoke beside me, or inside me, I don’t know which. I was urged to walk up that road: “Walk the road, Evelyn. Walk until you know you should stop. There’s a goose caught in the tulles. You’ll hear her cries ad thrashing about. Go get her, now!”I called to Lana, “Put away your book.” Pointing in the direction of the road, I said excitedly, “We’re going to take a walk and we’re going to bring back our Christmas goose!”
“What are you talking about, Mama? We’re not hunting. How can we get a goose? The guys have the guns.”
“I’m not sure Lana, except I know we are going to walk on that road, cut through the tulles and we will come back with a goose!”
“oh, Mama, won’t Dad and Mike be surprised if we do? Let’s go!”
We walked less than a mile. Lana’s shorter legs had no trouble keeping pace with my cautious, slow, stride. Our feet stopped at a certain spot and I put my finger on my lips so Lana would be quiet. We both peered all around. Then several feet, off road, we heard a thumping and fluttering. The voice whispered, “See, there us your goose. Walk through the Tulles and get her.” I hesitated. “When I find her, what then? - What do I do with a live, injured goose?” Silence, except for my racing heart.
I told Lana to wait for me on the road because the ground was wet and mucky - too difficult for her to walk through. Then I climbed down the bank and headed in the direction of the distress signals. When I reached the right spot a large goose was frantically trying to flap its broken wings. I felt a mixture of fear, sorrow and deep remorse. When the bird saw me, she tried to scramble away, but became more entangled in the undergrowth. The Voice spoke again. “Here is the Christmas goose you prayed for. Pick her up by the legs, and quickly end her pain and suffering.”I followed directions, grasping strong, slender legs and lifting her up bodily. She instantly calmed down. I then saw a large rock sticking up through the mud. “Swing hard and strike her head against the rock. She’ll die quickly and feel no pain” - I swung with all my might, tears pouring down my checks. - It was over. I carried the beautiful goose back to the road. Lana who was laughing and clapping her hands, exalted: “Mama, we did it - we got a Christmas goose! - Mama, why are you crying?”
“Because she is dead and she was so beautiful. But she had to die to provide a goose for our Christmas dinner.”
When Dad and Michael came back there were no geese hanging from their belts or feathers sticking out of their game bags. They were tired, hungry and disappointed. Lana could hardly wait to tell them, “Don’t worry. Mom and I got one. We got our Christmas goose!” By this time the goose was de feathered, cleaned and stored in the ice chest. When we exhibited the prize and told the remarkable story of finding her, my tears ceased, and I joined in with a family celebration that our hunt had been successful. Mike and Lana put goose feathers in their caps, and later as we bowed our heads to thank God for ham and cheese sandwiches and apple cider, we also thanked God for giving us a goose for Christmas.
WHAT DID I LEARN FROM THIS? - God cares for us. He cares so much that He granted my prayer and sacrificed a precious goose taken from his wild flocks. - I also learned GOD weeps with us when anyone, man or animal, is wounded, suffering and dying. “Even a sparrow”, Jesus said, “is known by the Lord.” But especially a goose I thought. It helped knowing my tears were also His tears. How do I know this? I just know.
God played the major part in this story. He gave me the light enhanced vision of the road I must travel. By His direction I was told to stop in the exact place, at the exact moment to find the wounded goose. By His unique placement a rock was sticking out of the mud so I could end her suffering quickly. I was directed by Him. He is not a remote, uncaring, disinterested God. His grace is always near. He answers heartfelt prayer, even by providing a goose for a family’s Christmas dinner.