Something from the tackle box:
Later, the Lord said to
Elijah, “Leave and go across the Jordan River so you can hide near Cherith
Creek. You can drink water from the
creek, and eat the food I’ve told the ravens to bring you.”
Elijah obeyed the Lord and
went to live near Cherith Creek.
Ravens brought him bread and meat twice a day, and he drank the water
from the creek. But after a while,
it dried up because there was no rain.
(1Kings 17:2-7 CEV)
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| working down towards the bridge |
Yesterday was the Memorial Day holiday and,
for the most part, I had a very enjoyable time. Kathy and I spent the entire afternoon at a backyard
barbeque hosted by my son Nate and his wife Tracy. My daughter Andrea and her fiancée Chad were there, along
with my Grandkids, Nolan, Gwen and Lydia.
The food and company were great, and Nolan got to show me the new
fishing rod he received for signing up for Cub Scouts. I helped him rig it up and we practiced
casting in the back yard. It’s a
sweet set-up for a six-year-old and he will be catching fish with it in company
with his grandpa as soon as school is out for the summer. But, as enjoyable as the afternoon was,
what I really want to tell you about was my morning.
After a
Friday and Saturday up at the cottage Kathy and I came home so that I could do
the church service on Sunday morning.
Which is fine, except that there is no point in making the five-hour
drive back up just to spend one more night and then come home on Memorial Day
afternoon to be at work bright and early on Tuesday. This meant that the holiday proper would, of necessity, be spent around our home
rather than on the lake. This is
also fine, especially with the BBQ option
at my son’s place on the table, except that I had really wanted to get some
more fishing in up north before my lake got too jet-ski/power-boaty for my
taste, which it often is on weekends after Memorial Day and all the docks are
in. Oh well, - what would be a
good plan B?
I
know! Since we don’t have to be at
Nate’s house until around noon, I’ll get up early and spend a couple of hours
fly-fishing on Tinker’s Creek before we get ready to go. I should have the fishing all to
myself. This is the opening
weekend of Bass season, and almost all of the live-bait trout fisherman, who
clog things up on the trout streams in May, will have tossed all of their
red-worms out in favor of crawlers and crank-baits to use at the local Bass
hot-spots for the rest of the summer.
Good thinking.
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| it really was glorious |
What a
beautiful morning. I awoke at six
o’clock and was parked near the banks of Tinker’s Creek putting my hip-waders
on by six-thirty. The sun had just
cleared the eastern horizon and the sky was nothing but bright morning blue in
every direction you could look. I
was right about having the water all to myself, as there wasn’t another soul
around to compete with the morning songbirds for my ear.
The only
fly in the ointment was that, after watching the surface of the water in my
favorite spot for several minutes, something I always do before getting in to
fish, it was obvious that nothing was feeding off the top right now. Oh well. I decided to get into the water upstream, near the
overhanging apple tree, and take about an hour to slowly work my way down to
the honey-hole near the covered bridge.
Maybe they’d be rising by then.
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| a gray adam's fly |
What a
joy it was to get in and play out line from my sixty year-old Conlon Rod. The breeze was so gentle that I didn’t
even have to take it into account when making my casts. Upstream, downstream or cross-stream,
the little gray Adam’s fly I had tied on turned over perfectly within a foot or
two of where I’d aimed it. Problem
was, I was aiming it at nothing!
Not a sign of a rising fish anywhere. Cast as I would to likely spots, it seemed I was destined to
just enjoy the beauty of the morning without a trout to say “hello” to.
About
half-way from the old apple tree to the covered bridge, right at the spot I’d
caught my first trout of the season two weeks earlier, I made a cast to a good
spot between two clumps of brush on the west bank. I didn’t expect anything because I hadn’t been seeing
anything yet. But, by golly, the
first rising fish I saw in the half-hour of slow work I’d put in so far, was
the nice little brown trout that rose to my Gray Adam’s fly!
She
jumped and flipped and generally worked against me pretty hard, but she was
small and I soon had her in my landing net. She went about nine inches or so, and it looked just like
the fish I’d caught in the same spot two weeks earlier. I like to think that it was, as I’ve
become a catch-and-release man in my old age, at least as far as trout steams
are concerned.
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| what a beautiful creature |
After a
quick photo-op, and taking the fly out of her lip, back in the water she went. She
was just barely hooked through a sliver of membrane at the front edge of her
mouth that was about as thick as the 4x tippet I was using. I don’t know how I ever got her close
enough to net.
Another
fifteen minutes of fishing got me down to the bridge, where I like fishing the
best, and here things changed. I
saw a couple of fish that were coming right out of the water after flying
insects, jumping at a pretty regular clip, right under the bridge. There was just enough clearance between
bridge and water to turn a fly over right in the shade and I figured I was a
cinch to come into more action, - but then I heard Mickey Mouse start to
whistle.
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| my ring-tone |
The
ring-tone on my cell-phone is the tune from “Steamboat Willie,” the very first
Mickey Mouse cartoon shown in theaters back in 1928. It’s a snappy little tune that usually makes me happy when I
hear it. Not so much, right at the
moment though.
“Hello.”
“Hey there, pastor Mark. I know it’s kind of early, and it’s a
holiday and all, but I was wondering if you were going to be in the office at
all today? If you are, and you
could spare me a little bit of time later on, I sure would appreciate it. I’ve got something I need to talk with
you about and today seems like my best chance to do it.”
“Oh, hey there Tony. Yeah, I know we need to go over a few
things before next Sunday comes around.
Look, I’m tied up with family stuff all this afternoon, but if you could
meet me at the church in about two hours time, that would work for me.”
“Well, I really need to be on the road by
then myself. That’s why I called
so early. Figured we could get
this done over breakfast. My
treat. Otherwise it will have to
wait until next Saturday. And
that’s really pushing it, don’t you think?”
“Yeah. You’re probably right about that. Give me half an hour and I’ll meet you
at the C&R diner. Have my
coffee waiting.”
“Will do! See you in half an hour.”
“Bye, Tony.”
“Bye,
Pastor. And, thanks!”
Well, - OK,
- duty calls. – “I’ll see you later my beautiful little red spotted fish
friends. I sure do look forward to getting to know you a lot better the
next time I come here. – And I’m hoping that it won’t be too long!”
Something to take home in your creel:
Some
folks joke about their pastor only working one day a week, and then only for
the morning. But most of those who
do joke about it also know it’s not true.
The ones who think that it is true – don’t joke about it – they gripe about
it.
In fact,
quite the opposite is the truth, especially for small-church pastors, and most
of our parishioners know that. We almost
all have scheduled days off, and even when we’re at work we may have stretches
of time, maybe even days on end, when we don’t have much that we have to do, but we are always “on call,” pretty much around the clock,
all week long, even on our days off, - and you’d be amazed how often that phone
does ring.
It’s not
so bad though. Most of us who do
small-church ministry really don’t mind it that much. It’s part of our calling. In fact, we like it.
If you need me, just call me, and I’ll be there for you. Why? Well, - because I really do care. Almost all of us do!
We are there for you in Jesus’ name. Just remember that even Jesus had to get away from it all
now and then, - in fact, - pretty regularly.
Lots of
folks who read about Elijah living by the creek, getting fed meat and bread by
the birds twice a day and drinking crystal clear water from the stream any time
he got thirsty, think that it sounds like a pretty good deal! They think; ‘Why, even though it wasn’t much, all he did was sit there and collect
sustenance for doing pretty much next to nothing. I sure never had it that
good!’ And they may even think
that it’s pretty much akin to the deal that their pastor gets for what he or
she does for them. – Well, just keep in mind that it is possible, – even quite possible, – to dry a good small-church pastor’s stream right
out – by taking unfair advantage of
that 24-7 availability that they give you.
