The Best Value When Fishing

Fishing.

So much to experience. Especially when it includes catching. The bite. The hook-set. The exploding river. The netting. The discovery whether kept [hatchery] or released [native] and oftentimes that doesn’t matter; it’s released.

The skills of the guides. Such a blessing with this part of it. The guides. In Washington, in Oregon and in Colorado. They know. They really do. What to use, where to fish. And especially the boulders in the middle of rapids, huge and not too large rocks that always cast menacing glances and are almost always missed. Such a good thing.

Sharing the time when fishing with family and friends. Seems to me there are ALWAYS stories told/shared/fibbed [yes, that, too!] of the big ones that didn’t get away. About the 50 pounder, not a fib. About catching a limit in less than an hour, not a fib. About catching crawfish for me and my father at the age of 7. A memory in the cherish-file.

Ah, the memories.

Yet.

There’s one part of fishing I hardly ever write about…and now it arrives: the quiet. The peace. The soft reflections. The beauty of the earth which is more than a good idea. It is such a gift of God. The times to take deep breaths, maybe even sneak a snooze. To know “be still and know that I am God,” as offered by both holy scripture and the experience. At times a consolation, but also admonishment.

Thought of the marinating of life, the non-screaming, the non-lying [called false facts these days], the time when life and its essence are both real and indelible. This picture brings that. With Bob Ball, my wonderful Forks, Washington guide. You can see the bow of his drift boat on the left. But, far more. Such beauty of the Bogachiel River, the sun splashing its light on the river and the trees. The quiet. The subtle rippling river flow. The moment when Shalom, God’s peace, the inner peace and well-being in the soul, are so real. So very real. And life itself dances in the heart.

What I wish? I wish for each of you to have such moments…where and when it can happen. When the quiet has a voice that assures us we matter, especially to God. Especially to God…

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About Mark H Miller

Diane and I live in Leander, Texas. This past June 17, 2015 I celebrated the 49th anniversary of my ordination. We returned to Texas after three years in Washington, during which I served as interim minister in Bellevue/Eastgate and Mercer Island. Am planning to begin a 5th novel that will have my protagonist, Tricia Gleason, serve a year in licensed ministry in Snoqualmie, Washington. The novel, "The Lemon Drop Didn't Melt," will find Tricia wrestling with ministry challenges. None of which more daunting than someone wanting her breathing to stop. All the published novels are available on Amazon and Amazon Kindle under Mark Henry Miller. A primary goal in our return to Texas is to make sure grandchildren get lots of attention--here and in Chicago and Washington, D.C. Traveling is definitely an activity that will not slow down. With that, of course, fishing will happen. To that the t-shirt is apt, "I fish; therefore I am." In addition to novels, the book of Blogs, "Voice Of My Heart," is also available on Amazon.
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