Something from the tackle box:
Be sincere in your love for
others. Hate everything that is
evil and hold tight to everything that is good. Love each other as brothers and sisters and honor others
more than you do yourself. Never give
up. Eagerly follow the Holy Spirit
and serve the Lord. Let your hope
make you glad. Be patient in time
of trouble and never stop praying.
(Romans 12:9-12 CEV)
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| Wayne in the back of our boat |
My good friend, parishioner and fishing
buddy, Wayne Swiler, passed away yesterday morning. He bore the onslaught of his cancer over its last and
terminal stages with more strength, dignity and quiet grace than most folks I
know would, far better than I ever could I am quite sure. Wayne was an inspiring model of patient
Christian faith and peace over this last year of his illness. It seemed that as his body decreased in
strength his spirit increased so, a fact taken note of by many who knew him
well. His inner strength
notwithstanding, yesterday morning death claimed another temporary victory over
one of God’s Saints, or at least over his body. Wayne’s death leaves, at least for now, a big hole in several
aspects of my life. My social
life, my church life, and my fishing life, will not be the same without Wayne.
Wayne and
his wife Pam started attending the church I work at quite a few years ago now,
not too long after that church had brought me in as pastor back in 2003. They had heard something from someone
about our church, and they were checking it out as a possible new spiritual home
base. Pam seemed to love being a
part of us right off the bat.
Wayne – not so much. He
really preferred a much more upbeat and contemporary style of worship, he told
me back then, but, if Pam liked it so much, he allowed that the preaching was acceptable – and he could tolerate attending church here – at
least for the time being. It was
the beginning of a beautiful relationship.
It was
not long before Wayne was as beloved a part of our church family as anyone
there was, on an equal footing with those who were by far his elders in
membership, and even on a par with those who had been born into our circle,
which is an unusual and amazing thing to see happen in an old-line small town
church, believe me. This was in no
small measure due to his infectiously good
personality, brimming over with good natured,
good humored, goodwill towards everyone.
Just plain old goodness will
do that for you. That and the fact
that, right from the get-go, Wayne stepped forward to take part in doing so
many of the things that need to get done to keep a church building up and
running, and even improve itself, right up and into the last year of his
life. A whole lot of “upkeep” got
done at the church by Wayne Swiler and Company, and that is going to be hard to
replace.
Oh, maybe
this would be a good place to mention that Wayne dealt with pretty severe
arthritis for much of his life.
I’m talking about the kind of arthritis that presented the world with
legs that didn’t look right when he strode towards you, and very crooked
fingers to navigate your way around when he reached out to shake your hand with
that big smile on his face. It was
bad. But note that I say he dealt with it, not that he suffered from it, or even that he was afflicted with it. Perhaps those descriptions were true. I suspect that they might have been in
some ways. But if they were, Wayne
never let on to anyone else. He
just went ahead and did everything that he wanted to do as best he could do
it. Hunt, fish, chop wood, run
tractor, play with the dogs, he did it all with a smile on his face over the
fact that he was doing it at all.
If he had to use a slightly unorthodox technique for handling an ax or
casting bait with a fishing rod, what was that compared to the joy to be found
in doing it at all?!
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| a good day on the lake |
Which
does bring me around to the fishing, which is where I got to know Wayne the
best, and grow the closest to him.
Which, I’ll admit, is a funny thing for a pastor to say about someone in
his flock, but truth nonetheless. We
did plenty of other things together, church functions, conversation over coffee
and sweets after church, card playing at both Euchre (the game he loved) and
cribbage (the game I love), among many other things, but fishing is different
than all of that.
For some people, like Wayne and I,
fishing is to be in this world – at
the same time as you reach out and touch existence in the next. Or maybe it
reaches out and touches you. Probably both of those things happen at once. Who can know? But, for some of us, there is deep truth
to be found pondered in the ancient Babylonian proverb, which states that God does
not deduct from a man's allotted span the hours spent in fishing.
Now, not everyone who fishes gets
this point.
As in any other inherently
spiritual pursuit, uncritical and self-absorbed fisherman abound, those who
fish, as they generally do everything else in life, without an open heart
towards that other realm right there in front of them. As Henry David Thoreau famously said; “Many men go fishing all of their lives
without ever knowing that it is not fish they are after.”
But
for those who do get the point, a
fishing boat can become very sacred space. And to share that space with another person who recognizes
the gift of that perceived nearness of God in the pursuit, just as much as you
do, is to share a deep and special bond with that one. This was a bond that Wayne and I shared,
I do believe.
Our fishing together started
quite a few years back. After
Wayne found out that his pastor was an enthusiastic angler, he invited me out
to a relative’s cottage on Saddlebag Lake to fish that body of water off a
pontoon boat along with his brother-in-law, Jerry. After that things escalated. A number of trips to Sessions Lake and Morrison Lake, to
fish out of Wayne’s fold-a-boat, would
be the next chapter.
Have
you ever heard of a full sized two man fishing boat that you could fold up and
lay flat in the back of your truck when you were done fishing? Neither had I! Even though the idea never caught on really
big, I learned that the fold-a-boat had
been around for over forty years, and Wayne, ever willing to try anything that might make going fishing a
little bit easier, had one! It’s a funny looking thing, and I have
to admit that I was kind of leery about stepping off the dock down into it that
first time, what with its soft looking bottom and sides. Wayne just laughed and told me to get
on in and I would love it. And I
did! It turned out to be one of
the most comfortable and stable feeling small boats I’ve ever fished out
of. Wayne and I have caught a lot
of fish together – out of a fold up boat. Go figure.
But then, the special bond
started when we bought a boat together.
I have an old friend I used to work with before I came to Lake Odessa,
who called me up one day to let me know that he wanted to sell his 12 foot
Martin flat bottomed rowboat for $100.
I had always liked that boat, and the price was right, but I didn’t
really know where I would keep it at the parsonage if I bought it. I told Wayne about my misgivings, and
he suggested that we go in on that boat together and just keep it right at the
dock of a friend who lived on a small private
lake in the area. I knew the lake
Wayne was talking about. He had
access to it through this friend, and he had taken me out there a couple of
times to help get the fold-a-boat in
and out of the water for an morning’s fishing. This fishing hole is phenomenal! You can haul out big ol, slabber bluegills by the bucketful
some days! Needless to say, I was
very interested.
And so that’s what Wayne and I
did. Soon, morning trips over
several miles of dirt road in Wayne’s ATV, or his pick up truck, to get to that
pot-hole and fish together in our
boat, became pretty routine. We had a couple of summers of contemplating the
blessings of living life in the palm of God’s hand together in that boat. I count every one of those trips to be
among the better spent days of my recent life, and Wayne always seemed to enjoy
them just as much I did. And more
than a couple of big fish dinners came of it too, which only added to the
blessings.
But, two summers back now, as
good as the fishing was, Wayne was starting to have a harder time getting in
and out of the boat when we went out there. The smiling joy-filled willingness was all still there, but
I had to help out with more than I used to have to, and Wayne and I both knew
why.
This past summer we didn’t go
fishing together at all. Our boat
sat in his barn as Wayne’s body progressively refused to do the fishing that
his spirit willed that he could. In
the fall Wayne had a sportsman’s garage sale. Friends came from far and wide to buy fishing and camping gear
that we were all wishing he would just keep to use next year, but which we all also
knew he wouldn’t be using again.
Better that we had it than some strangers, I guess. Fishing friends and neighbors hung
around and talked together for hours.
Wayne was happy with that.
Wayne and I still spent some good
time together this past year, at church, and over cards or a meal, until his
body, late in the game, refused to cooperate with even that much activity. Earlier this month my wife and I took a
drive around the countryside with the Swilers so that Pam could try out driving
in Kathy’s Subaru and see if she liked it. Wayne wanted to take her car shopping.
It was only the last couple of
weeks that Wayne didn’t get out of the house at all. Yet, even then there was the smile for all who came to see
him. It was the smile of
love. Love of family, love of
friends, love of neighbors, love of God.
The Spirit’s love for life, and all the blessings that life holds for
those who embrace it, never gave up in Wayne. I don’t believe it has given up in him yet.
Something
to take home in your creel:
Wayne was a man of strong
Christian faith and convictions.
He was never pushy about that, he just let it shine out of his life like
a welcoming beacon. He was more
than willing to be and remain your friend or fishing buddy even if you didn’t
care to share his beliefs, but make no mistake, he did have them. He lived by them. Wayne loved all of his friends, and he wanted
to know that he would see them again some day, on the other side, in the
Promised Land.
Now, I’m not sure if there
will be fishing in the waters of the New Heaven and New Earth after Christ
returns, but we are told that there is a river that will flow out of the New
Jerusalem. And, since the
resurrected Lord did eat fish with his disciples on more than one occasion in
the gospel accounts, – who knows!
Wayne and I may have a boat together again some day, on that further
shore. That would be nice.
