The One That Didn’t Get Away



We’re an interesting pair, my husband and I. He’s a firefighter/EMT, and I’m a school teaching musician. He’s an outdoorsman—I’m a fashion loving girly-girl. Our two grown sons, Dan and Sam are very male but have artistic flares. Daniel is rather shrewd at business, and is a growing musician. Sam loves theater but is currently looking into a career in the military. (gulp) Our daughter Marla is developing into a very funny fusion of the two of us as well. On a typical day she changes clothes at least 5 times, (two of which involve Princess-style apparel.) She also finds some way to be outside with her Daddy, either playing in the yard, or if she’s extra persuasive, fishing.

A few days ago she talked Don into taking her fishing in a small lake near our home. First, the perfect clothing had to be chosen: a lovely pink halter dress, with sparkly “Hello Kitty” sandals. Then she and her dad set about digging up earthworms.

Equipped with her pink Barbie fishing rod, she cast into the water and in a matter of moments had a tug on her line. Don thought she might have caught a turtle, as the tension on the rod and line were significant. She made several attempts to reel in her prize, but the pull was too great so she started walking backwards up the bank. Within just a few moments she pulled a 4-pound bass up on to the shore.

She and Don took the her prize over to my parents’ home to show her Papa the fish, and he captured the moment on his digital camera. Our fashion conscious fisherwoman really caught the big one.







Who knows? Maybe in the future she’ll be setting fashion trends for Gator hunting…

Swimming Lanes








When I was a little girl we lived in Bradenton, Florida, in a little neighborhood just blocks from a bay that opened into the Gulf of Mexico. There was a community center right on the bay with a huge pool, and my parents took me there as often as possible. I learned to swim there with the other children from the neighborhood. The pool seemed enormous to my young eyes, and the black tiled lanes that stretched the length of the pool were somehow comforting to this novice swimmer. They were like fixed paths that led to the safety of the far wall, and that meant a place to rest and catch my breath. I would keep my eyes focused on them as I swam down the lane, watching them travel beneath me. I loved swimming in that pool.

We also lived a short distance from the sugary sands of Bradenton Beach. My Mother would coat me down with Suntan lotion (there was no such thing as sunscreen yet), put a huge hat on my head, and take me to play in the sand for hours. The Gulf waters were warm and the surf gentle, and though I loved to swim, I was uncomfortable doing so in that vast expanse of water. The gulf was fairly clear on most days, and I could see the bottom when my daddy would carry me in to wade and play. He would encourage me to swim back to the shore, but I stubbornly clung to him… I didn’t want to swim in this water. There were no lanes to follow. In my young mind, I didn’t trust the water with no clear path to guide me.

It’s been a very long time since I was that little girl. The Lord has taken me to places that have been beautiful and terrifying, and in each place I’ve found myself looking for lanes so that I might be able to navigate my way through them. Just as in the gulf as a child, I looked to my daddy to carry me back to the shore, and as an adult, I’ve needed to be carried through many circumstances when the lanes I hoped to see weren’t there. In the ocean of pain and suffering, I’ve found myself lifted up repeatedly by the mercy and grace of God, by the strong arms of Jesus, and by the prayers of others on my behalf. When I couldn’t see a way to survive, Christ lifted me and took me to the shore, and reminded me again that I will not always be able to see the path that leads to safety. There will continue to be situations in life that will be faith challenging, but He will be my guide— he’ll lead me to a place to rest. So, I stubbornly cling to him in faith— knowing, trusting, and believing he will deliver me to the perfect shore of his choosing.

Summer is almost here, and we’ll be vacationing near those sandy beaches of my childhood. I can hardly wait to sit in my chair, listen to the gentle surf, and wiggle my toes in the fine powdery sand. I might even wade in the water a bit, but I’ll probably save my swimming for the pool with the lanes.