Ecclesiastes 3:1 "To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven."

Today I chose to fish with my 40-year-old Ambassador reel. It was like meeting an old, good friend who doesn't let time or space decrease the familiar feelings.

My Ambassador reel is very valuable; to me it's priceless. My dad couldn't afford it when he bought it for me, but he paid the price because he wanted me to have the very best. It was my first reel that was really mine. I have probably had three dozen other, lesser reels since then, but I have always chosen to use my Ambassador.

Then last year I put it away. I put my Ambassador away because it was so valuable. I had this dream of someday sitting down and with my grandchildren and tenderly unwrapping oil soaked rag and revealing Granny's first ancient, antique Ambassador reel. Like all fine antiques, I wanted it to continue to be in good usable condition.

But today I changed my mind. I ripped off that rag, slapped that Ambassador on my old, 12-foot surf rod. I walked right out there in the surf and cast farther than anyone else. I decided that if something was usable, it should be useful so it had to be used. Antiques just rattle and rust, their worth being measured in worthlessness.

If my grandkids ever want to see Granny's Ambassador reel, let them wade out into the surf and look. There they will see their antique Granny and her antique reel still fishing away.

Nothing wants to be wrapped up and put on a shelf if it is still usable and still good.

Dear Lord, help the valuable people who are entering the winter season of this life to realize there is still a time and purpose under the heaven for thee. Like my reel, we each have a lifetime guarantee.
Use us, God.

Psalms 91:11, 12, "For He shall give His angle charge over thee, to keep thee in all thyy ways. They shall bear thee up in their hands, lest thou dash

Rock, I know you're out there for I have the scarred shins to prove it. Your presence causes me to drag my feet cautiously across the ocean floor in fear of finding you.

Rock, I know exactly where you are in this dawn tide -- exactly where I am going. Between the beach and where I wade to fish, you hide within your wavy, secret den.

When my heart begins to race with the first cast, when I am feeling safe that nothing is in my way but sea and dawn and fish at last, that is when I dash my foot against you, Rock.

And then I hear you gurgle and laugh, "I gotcha!"

Dear Lord, forgive me when I get self-confident and race ahead to things I want. I need to learn to abide in your secret place because the rocks of life are there. But, God, when I sometimes forget, could You spare just one angel for and anxious fool like me?