Outdoor Mommas

It is pretty easy when writing about one’s upbringing in the outdoors to default to praising and thanking dads. Dads play a huge role in raising little boys and girls to be curious and nature oriented. They should be acknowledged for their efforts in creating little conservationists, but in most cases there was an outdoor momma to thank as well. Outdoor mommas are a necessity, growing ever scarcer, and it makes me increasingly thankful for the efforts that my own momma made to get me and keep me outside.

My momma never was and will never be a hunter. She has no interest in harvesting her own game, she doesn't daydream about mallards at the back of some muddy river slough, and you probably won’t find her in a deer stand or underneath some cedar tree waiting on a turkey. She doesn’t build her life around the changing of the seasons and transfer thought from one game animal to the next, but I can assure you that the reason I do all these things and appreciate the natural world so deeply is because of the things that she did do.

Mom might not have been a hunter, but she was always outside. She was never a mom that tried to dampen the wildness of her youngins. She encouraged us to be cautiously risky and adventurous when it came to outdoor spaces. If we wanted to climb trees, dig holes, or build forts then she would be the first to say go for it. She didn’t try to make us fit into some box we would inevitably break out of. Our days were constricted enough by the khaki pants and tucked in shirts of the school dress code. Civility and manners have their place, but mom was pleased with us being a little wild and we loved her for it.

Momma knew we loved the outdoors and she did everything she could to help us cultivate that love. She took us to the creek to catch fish, flip rocks for crawdads, and to just be reminded that the feeling of gritty creek gravel between your toes is one that many will never feel. She helped us tie homemade snares, build hunting blinds, and craft cane-pole frog gigs. She followed us through the woods as we would show her all the tracks from deer and turkeys we found in the mud earlier that day. She’d ask us questions and smile as we displayed our proficiency in woodsmanship and general outdoor know-how.

Mom was always appropriately alarmed when we cut fingers on pocket knives, flipped go-karts, or burned ourselves playing in the campfire. The edification of little boys requires such encounters and as long as she knew there was no serious threat, then we were free to learn and grow from making youthful mistakes. She kept watch over us, but not so closely that we couldn’t outgrow her reach.

She was never too fearful, as some mothers are, to let me venture out on my own. She knew the woods were calling and that I was supposed to answer. So, she’d send me on my way with a biscuit and thermos full of something warm to drink, knowing that I was better off out of sight than too close to home. Mom was comfortable with letting us roam and she did everything she could to make home a welcoming place to land when our feet grew tired. She knew not to take other matters of life so seriously, that our joy in simple things faded away. Mom knew that school was important and she invested heavily in our education, but she also knew that if the rut was heating up then I could only think about the bucks that could only think about the does. She saw it fitting to allow me a skip day every so often to sit in a tree and not be bothered by algebra or english.

The world needs more outdoor mommas. We need more moms that are willing to go outside and yip back at the coyotes in the darkness of night. More moms who agree to climb and run along a row of hay bales. We need moms who are willing to buy shotgun shells, duck decoys, and camo for their boys and girls. We need patient women who don’t stress over shirts ripped from barbed wire or grass stained khakis.

I am thankful for my outdoor momma. She never tried to tame us, rather she gave us many opportunities to be wild when it was appropriate to be so. She passed to us a longing for the wonders of the natural world, but more importantly she demonstrated to us what it means to love the one who made it. My momma wants to know and love Christ deeply. Flawed and broken like the rest of us, she never ceases in her pursuit of God. I am so thankful that the Father placed me in the arms of a momma who loves and encourages my hunting pursuits, but that would mean very little if she didn’t love Jesus more.

Mom, I love you. Thank you for letting me be wild. Thank you for showing me Christ. Not everyone gets to have a mom like you. Austen, myself, and Eli are blessed to call you ours. You encourage us, shower us with love, and demonstrate to the world what it means to be a genuine mother. Thank you for raising us outside. Thank you for pushing us past our comfort zones and into the unknown. Thank you for allowing each of us to fly away from home and thank you more for always giving us a place to come back to.

You have always been and will always be our amazing outdoor momma.

Mom you raised three courageous, kind, and gospel centered children. I hope we honor you as much as you have loved us. Happy Mothers Day!