Spilt Wine

I went fishing this last Saturday. Something I haven’t done in a while and hardly enough. A little bit of “self-time” in the mountains is R&R to my soul, which has felt dried up for a while. As I headed up towards the mystic Sierra Nevada mountains, my heart was full excitement and was longing to connect with God, something else I haven’t seem to done in a while. My soul and heart were giddy and anxious like a Springer Spaniel puppy after she sees her master walk in through the door. Only problem I had at the moment was I could not see the Sierra Nevada Mounts or two hundred feet in front of me for all that it mattered. Nonetheless, I drove cautiously through the dense gray fog, singing praise and worship to God through the songs of U2 and snaked my way up the mountain. I thought about life and how often we step forward into the unknown, the thick fog of confusion, and doubt, with only our hearts to guide us through. Our hearts lead us to the beckon of light that calls to us and waits for us on the other side. My heart was honing in on what it had been missing and longing for, a moment in Gods creation, without distraction (other than my own mind), worry, or fear. And then shortly after passing Kaweah Lake, I broke though the wall of fog and God’s glorious foot hills, covered with gray dormant trees, which wait for the resurrection in Spring to come back to life and the purple and blue snow caped mountains that stood high and mighty were revealed at last. Things seemed balances now. I felt instant peace and continued forward towards my fishing hole, on of God's many play grounds.

I didn’t catch very many fish that day and the two I did catch were so small, they were hardly worth mentioning, but I did catch a little bit of God that day, which makes it’s a good day. And like any good fisherman, I will continue to pursue Him, because his elusiveness compels me.