“Take your time, breathe, squeeze,” I told her and repeated to myself as she lined up the shot. The result was instantaneous, yet long enough for me to go back thirteen years in my thoughts–standing over her in the hospital nursery, her tiny hand clinching my pinky, uttering the words “I’ll never let anything hurt you” as tears ran down my cheek, laughing and doubting after a sleepless night as grandparents told me how fast time would fly by, laughing again as I watched it fly past Barbies giving way to perfume, Enfamil transitioning to iPods, bed time stories replaced by Facebook.

    As we surveyed the scene from our raised vantage point in the shoot house, she beamed with excitement. Her first deer lay in the field in front of us and thirteen years lay stretched out behind me in my mind. I was so excited for her, so proud of her. She had made a perfect shot and had laid claim to the prize of “first deer” for the Dye children. She had waited for this moment since her brother basked in the glory several years earlier of “first turkey” and now this honor was hers to claim. “Let’s go see it Dad,” she said as we hugged inside the blind. As we knelt over the fine doe, I wondered how many more such times I would have with her and, above all, I was thankful for this time, thankful for this Thanksgiving Day.

    Thanksgiving—never had that word meant more to me than this year.  A few weeks earlier, I had flashed back to that moment in the hospital nursery as I raced down highway 45 from Starkville toward the Rush ER. For some reason, Tate’s heart had begun to race uncontrollably to over 240 beats per minute. After several tests, the diagnosis was supraventricular tachycardia (SVT for short) which was a new term for all of us but, above all, we knew what it was and we were told it could be fixed. Less than a week later, we were at UAB awaiting the procedure that would fix it. Just as I had done while racing down 45, I thought about the day she was born and as the nurse wheeled her down the hall into surgery, I prayed that the promise I had made to her then would hold true.

    Just before the shot, as I sat next to her in the blind, it was obvious that the procedure had been successful. Her heart was, once again, beating fast but this time it was due to the excitement that comes during those final few moments before the trigger is squeezed. As we celebrated a successful hunt and took pictures to capture the memories, I knew that the times when my heart would race would soon arrive. Through the camera lens a beautiful young woman had begun to replace the little girl in my memories. Soon enough, I would experience “heart racing” moments:  driver’s license, boyfriends, breakups, heartbreaks, high school, and college. However, for now, for this moment, all was right in my little part of the world. God had, once again, used the outdoors, His wonderful creation, to open my eyes to all the blessings he has bestowed upon me.

    I gained new perspective about Thanksgiving this year. It has always been one of my favorite times but this year, more than any other in my forty years, I realized just how much I had for which to be thankful. It is amazing just how quickly thirteen years can pass by or, for that matter, forty. It seems like only yesterday I was celebrating my first deer. I have celebrated many special hunts since then but none more special than this one. Later, as the Thanksgiving crowd filtered out of our camp house to celebrate Tate’s success and pose for trophy shots with the mighty hunter, I prayed for more times like this with her and I prayed for the next few years to go by slowly.