photo by Regina Williams

Note the horseshoe over Allen's head . . . I guess it's brought OWL a lot of good luck too . . . having Allen as a member.

There Is A Larger Story

by Allen Merritt

In my study of story telling, I’ve read some great truths. However, my greatest discovery was that there is a larger, eternal story that lies behind all the epic stories men have written. “We were born into the midst of a great story begun before the dawn of time. A story of adventure, of risk and loss, heroism and betrayal. A story where good is warring against evil, danger lurks around every corner, and glorious deeds wait to be done. Think of all those stories you’ve ever loved; there’s a reason they stir your heart. They’ve been telling you about The EPIC Story.”

Follow this link to a book-report I gave at Mid-South Writers Group about The EPIC Story. www.epicreality.com

FACING THE DARKNESS ALONE

“You gain strength, courage, and confidence, by every experience

in which you really stop and look fear in the face.” Eleanor Roosevelt

By Allen Merritt

Dad believed in “Tough-love” before the term became common. Besides teaching hard work by example, Dad instilled in his children the things he believed in: faith, honesty, and courage. Dad wasn’t a good talker, but quoted people who communicated well, the things that he considered important. He agreed with Eleanor Roosevelt when she said, “You gain strength, courage, and confidence, by every experience in which you really stop and look fear in the face.”

Dad really looked fear in the face many times as a paratrooper during WWII. After the war, he returned to our farm near Rogers, Arkansas. He married the girl from a neighboring farm; I was born in ’48 and my brother Phil in’50. Then the Army recalled Dad for duty in Korea.

With Dad overseas, Mom had her hands full milking cows and watching Phil and me. Fortunately, Grandpa and Granny, who lived on the adjoining farm, had time to help. Grandpa, a veteran of WW1, became the man in my life. He found ways to make our work fun; he also took me hunting and fishing.

After Dad came home from Korea, a severe drought made it hard to meet the farm’s mortgage. Being too short of cash to hire help, Dad needed Phil and me to lend a hand with the chores. We were in the milk barn, morning and evening, seven days a week. On Saturdays, there were other things to do, like bailing hay or cutting firewood. But I still loved walking the forest path to Granny and Grandpa’s house to spend the night. After supper featuring Granny’s fresh baked bread, Grandpa told stories about growing up in the big forest of East Texas or we read. In the newspaper, we read about the Game and Fish Commission reestablishing black bears in the Ozarks. My favorite stories were from western novels and Outdoor Life; stories about hunting for and being stalked by man-eating animals in the wilderness.

One Saturday, while Dad and I drove fencepost into rocky holes and stretched barbed wire, I kept begging Dad to let me spend the night with Granny and Grandpa. I had walked the half-mile to their house many times before, but never in the dark. Never, that is, until that cold November night.

By the time we finished the fence and the evening milking, it was dark; and I’d lost my enthusiasm for the trek through the woods to Granny’s house. Unfortunately, I’d pestered Dad too much; he insisted that I go.

Dad looked me in the eye and said, “You’re too old to be afraid of the dark. There’s nothing on this farm that’s going to hurt you. And didn’t you memorize the 23^rd Psalm? ‘The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want... Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me, your rod and your staff, they comfort me.’”

So reluctantly, I set off down the path. The moon was just coming up, and the fragrant sassafras trees in the fencerow cast dreadful shadows across my path. I feared that wolves, mountain lions, and hungry bears lurked within those shadows.

When I reached the plowed cornfield, my fears subsided somewhat. There were no shadows there except mine, and the silver moon was bright enough for me to see each clod in the barren furrows. My real dilemma was Grandpa’s thick woods just on the other side of the field.

Who could know what dangers awaited me in the deep, dark forest. A fox/s cave-lair wasn’t far from my path and memories of his fearful coyote-like shriek still sent shivers down my spine. I visualized the shaggy bear that had strayed into town and climbed a tree not far from school.

Still, I couldn’t turn back; so I crept into the woods toward the warm safety of Granny’s house. Every time a twig snapped under foot, I flinched and waited for the inevitable pounce of some dreadful creature.

Then something heavy and close by crunched the dry leaves. I froze in my tracks, afraid to stay and afraid to run. I summoned up enough courage to study the shadows, searching for the beast. When I glimpsed the creature; it was black and the size of a big bear. It stalked toward me once, and then again. Just before it reached me, I recognized it. It was one of Grandpa’s bottle-fed Black Angus calves, wanting a handout. Then, just as I could breathe again, a standing bear-like figure emerged from the shadows. My heart skipped another beat!

“Well, you made it,” the shadow said with Grandpa’s voice.

“I wasn’t scared,” I answered with more bravado than I felt.

A few steps farther, the forest thinned. The moon illuminated Grandpa’s barn, and beyond that, an open door with Granny silhouetted in warm light.

I had looked fear in the face; and overcome it!

Two years later, Phil, pestered Dad to spend the night with Granny; and he had to summon up enough courage to walk through the dark woods alone. Not long after Phil left the house, Dad winked and set off after him. It was then I realized that Dad and Grandpa had watched over me when I walked through the valley of shadows, and now they were now watching over my little brother. They let us look fear in the face, even as they watched over us like the good shepherds.

Since then, I’ve been a jungle soldier, parachuted out of airplanes, serve as a volunteer firefighter, earned a nine-gallon blood donor award, and tent camped among Alaskan grizzly bears. Nevertheless, even with my ever-growing faith, it sometimes takes determined willpower to look fear in the face. However, I am confident that the Good Shepherd watches over me all the days of my life.

You can contact Allen at:

Allen Merritt

13185 Walnut Valley Rd.

Rogers, AR 72756

479-531-1141

allen.merritt@sbcglobal.net

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