Spring Break Helps to Rejuvenate the Spirit

Proverbs 4:7 “Wisdom is the principal thing; therefore get wisdom.”

Today school was out for spring break, so guess what I did? Guessing what I did shouldn’t be hard, for I have done the same thing for all 45 years that I’ve taught. I go fishing. It seems as if soaking my head in seawater is the only way I can get the chalk dust out that has settled there between my ears. Only the sound of waves can erase the bell ringing sounds I keep hearing every 50 minutes.

After teaching in middle school until spring break each year, the shrimp I’m using for bait doesn’t even seem to stink. It is good to get whopped by a wave that I can see coming instead of sixth-graders with a backpack rounding the corner in the hall. I saw some kids splashing and dunking each other in the surf and I almost shouted, “Keep your hands and feet to yourselves!”

It felt good to be out of school for spring break. I guess what felt best was not having to, or being able to, control anyone or anything but me. Most of the time controlling me is not all that easy, but it sure beats trying to control, direct, counsel, inspire, correct, redirect, encourage and communicate with a whole bunch of students.

But as much as I loved my spring break at the beach, I knew that when that first bell rings next week, I would be back, loving what I do.

But it did feel good today when I caught two keeper trout, one right after the other; to yell at them, “Keep running in schools!!!”

Dear Lord, I just would like to stop for a minute and say, 'Thanks for a nearly perfect life." I had planned a way different life for myself, but this is the one I got. I do have the wisdom to know that it came from You. Happy spring break, Father.

Boat Teaches Humility

Today, I am continuing with the thought that everything I needed to know about life, I learned from a boat. Only this time, Shannon, my niece, asked if she could be a contributor to the column since I let my two sons help me write one.

Like Shannon said, "In just one trip, I learned a lot about the importance of humor and humility from that little boat and, after all, I'm the one who named it 'Baby Boat' among other names I called it that today so long ago."

"Today," Shannon wrote, "I remember that my friend Tracy and I went to the beach with her Aunt Mary and my Aunt 'Laine to fish from the new boat.

They really wanted to get to the fishing, but being 15-year-olds in our tiny bikinis we begged them to drive us down the beach to show off and look for boys.

We were way to cool to sit up front with, of all things, our aunts, so we placed ourselves in the back of the truck on lawn chairs trying to look casual.

"We came up on 15 or 20 shirtless guys playing volleyball on the sand court. It was every teenage girl's Utopia. We struck a pose, pretending not to notice them, when out of the blue, Aunt 'Laine drove right out into the middle of their court and starts laying on the horn yelling, 'Hey, guys, we got girls!!' We hid under Baby Boat as Aunt 'Laine and Aunt Mary tore up the beach so that we could go and fish. They were laughing so hard they were crying. I had no idea that older aunts could laugh like that.

Lesson No. 1: Humor

When we got to where we were to fish, Tracy and I were told to put on long jeans and shirts for safety's sake and to put Baby Boat in the water. There was no way we were going to cover up our gorgeous bodies, so we just jumped into the boat and drove it out to where our aunts couldn't get us.

Baby Boat was basically a Kayak with a battery-operated tiny motor. We mastered boating pretty quickly so we just continued to boat around for pleasure and somewhat in fear of our aunts.

Suddenly Tracy yells, 'Shark!!' when we saw a fin sticking out of the water right next to us -- and I do mean right next to us. Baby Boat and her little motor were no longer fun as the shark fin followed alongside of us.

We even took off our flip-flops and started paddling like the wind. We screamed like 15-year-old girls, "Aunt Mary! Aunt 'Laine! Shark! Help!" They again were rolling with laughter, (humor lesson No.2) and one of them yelled back at us, "It is just a porpoise and we think it is only trying to mate with Baby Boat."

We abandoned ship, but when we jumped into the water, a jellyfish came straight across my bare stomach and got me.

Aunt 'Laine marinated my red, whelped skin with meat tenderizer of all things, and just said, "We told you to wear jeans and shirts."

Thus, Lesson No. 2: Humility
We learned that our two aunts had a great knowledge of the ocean and its dangers, but they were willing to share the humor and the humility with us. After all, isn't that what aunts are for?

Dear Lord, thank you for sharing life's lessons with Tracy and me. We still carry the lessons of humor and humility with us today.

1 Corintians 15:51 "Behold, I show you a mystery."

Today, I do not understand why:

I can cast over the railing on the pier, under the high line that is out over the water and hit within 6 inches of where I saw a redfish swirl;

I am able to tighten the drag and loosen the tension on my 45-year-old reel with the precision of a German watch-maker;

I am capable of telling if I am going to hook a reddish, flounder, or trout as soon as I feel the first tentative nibble of a bite;

I am gifted enough to perfectly cast a right-handed open-faced bait-casting reel and then immediately pick up and throw my left-handed spinning reel and fish with both of them at the same time;

But, today, I do not understand why, if I can do all these "fishy" things, I don't have the aptitude to operate a simple VCR.

Dear Lord, I guess there are a lot of mysteries in life I don't understand. But, because of you, God, I don't have to worry why.

Malachi 3:10 "Prove me now herewith, saith the Lord of hosts, if I will not open to you the windows of heaven and pour you out a blessing."

Today, on my way home, I stopped by a most unlikely place to fish because I could see the mullet working. I threw the cast net, got live bait, used them and caught three big flounder, the only fish I had caught all day.

As I continued home, I thanked God for my miracle catch of three big flounder. It took me a few more miles toward home before I got around to thanking God for the blessings of the little mullet that He provided that enabled me to even fish for the flounder.

That experience left me wondering if there were not many times we asked or thanked God for big miracles while forgetting to seek and savor the little blessings He gave us.

For example, when a storm is bearing down on my coast, I ask God for the miracle of His protection. I forget to thank Him for each peaceful, perfectly safe day He blesses me with.

Since I believe that if God meant people to fly, he would have given them wings and not just airplanes, I pray for the miracle of safety when my sons are flying all over this world. I sometimes forget to ask Him for the blessing of safety when they are flying down some expressway late for work.

I know some young women when they find that they are pregnant, stop any habits that might interfere with the miracle of birth of their baby, but they resume these same habits right after their child has received the blessing of life, as if those same habits don't still affect the life of their child.

When our loved ones are fading or facing a lift-threatening disease, we rush to God and beg Him for a miracle and make silly, little promises of things we will stop or start if God will only mind us. Yet we fail to thank Him for the daily blessings of some loved one's life that we have shared, nor do we mention to God anything we are willing to stop or start to continue the blessing of every day life.

Sometimes we need a dumb little mullet to teach us brilliant people lessons.

Dear Lord, forgive us when we pile up little blessings in an attempt to stand on them while straining to look for big miracles. You love us in little things as much as You show Your love through the big ones.

Psalms 31:3 "For Thou art my rock and my fortress."

Today, after fishing hard all morning, I felt as empty as my stringer, so I stopped by The Rock to get refilled.

I have a place on my beach that I reserve for worship and meditation. I call it The Rock, my chapel by the sea. There is one rock out there surrounded by sea and set on a pedestal of sand. I don't pray to it, but I do concentrate on it as one would a statue, a crucifix or a picture over the baptismal. It isn't God, but it reminds me of Him, always there, unchanging and immovable.

But today when I sat my sea soaked self down in my favorite pew, a sand ledge formed by the sea, I looked out and shouted in the silence, "My rock is gone!" I could feel my soul crumble just like the sand ledge I sat upon.

Out there in the water where my rock always waited, there was a long row of man made cement chunks that had been deliberately placed there to stop beach erosion. That was necessary, but not nice, but how was the country to know that my rock, my fortress was now gone?

I have to admit that at other times in my life I have felt that "God-gone" feeling before. I have tried to pray when I felt as if my prayers only hit the ceiling and bounced back down at me. There have been times that I have searched for the way and have been left there kneeling, due to fear and lack of faith. St. Therese, The Little Flower, called these feelings her time of "aridity," the dry desert of her faithful life. Not being a saint, I just shouted again, "My rock is gone!!"

I sat there feeling sad as if the sea was empty until, not with a thought, but a feeling, I realized that my rock was not gone. I just couldn't see it for the man made things that were keeping me from seeing it, so like the other times in my life that I had felt like God was gone.

Slowly, with my soul's eye, I searched out my rock and there it was, unchanging and immovable. I just had to see it on a whole more spiritual plain. My rock was not gone and never would be.

Dear Lord, when we feel as if You're gone, help us to seek You more deeply. Sometimes manmade things may tempt to cover You up, but thank you for still being there. God won't be gone.

John 6:39 "And this is the Father's will which hath sent me, that of all which He hath given me. I should lose nothing."

Today, at about 1 a.m., I lost my father's old, ancient, antique rod.

I was going out to fish under the lights on this nice long pier when I felt it slip through my fingers, saw it go through the worn pier planks and heard it plop into the dark waiting water.

I was being really smart and carrying everything I would need for a good night of fishing. I was being so smart that I wasn't going to make two trips like those other silly conservative fishermen. I would take it all at once and get the best spot.

All I did was prove that I was more competitive than competent.

I can still feel the emptiness in my hand as it slid away and the plop it made was molded in my mind. The plop was not the last thing people heard, as I threw a screaming, stomping fit over my loss.

I finally settled down enough to get out one of my other rods and reels, rig it up and try dragging it along that blackened bottom to see if I could snag my lost treasure. I tried using a dip net, the hook on the 20-foot stringer, the gaff hook and when I was about to cast myself over the pier railing in search for it, I realized, that the way the tide was running, it was really gone.

Buried at sea.

Forever lost.

I was so bitter about that loss that I started gathering up all my stuff and stomping off that stupid pier. Then I stopped myself. I realized that I still had a perfectly good rod and reel remaining, and being bitter didn't help at all.

I fished there the rest of the night, caught several speckled trout and, as the sun came up on a new day, I learned that I had learned a powerful lesson: When you lose something precious, you can either be bitter or better. I decided that better is better than bitter.

Dear Lord, as I left the pier this morning, I found myself singing "Amazing grace, how sweet the song; that saved a wretch like me. I once was lost but now I am found; was blind but now I see." Insight is better than bitterness

Hebrews 13:8: "Jesus Christ, the same yesterday and today and forever."

Today three of my best fishing friends and I fished as we had yesterday and will fish forever. There is such security in "sameness."

I met one of my fishing friends when she asked me if I knew where she could cut some bamboo for fishing poles for her two boys in Cub Scouts. We have fished them through college now.

I got to know another one of my fishing friends when I coached her in middle school where she was wondering what she would become. We have fished her into becoming a teacher, getting her master's degree and about to become a school psychologist.

I remember the third fishing friend's first day as a teacher. As a seasoned teacher, her enthusiasm was contagious and sometimes maddening. It is a wonder we are still fishing friends, because that rookie teacher out-fished me the very first time we fished together and most of the times since then.

While fishing together we have talked our way through how, who, what, when, where and why the way we were. All of my fishing friends are now middle-aged and I am elder-aged. As we fished, we notice that our conversations had turned from "wills" to "ills" without us ever realizing it. We were all out there complaining about our physical limitations like a bunch of old ladies instead of fishing friends.

We laughed at each other and then we made a pledge to each other. We pinpointed our rod tips in the air and chanted together: "We still stick together, while we fall apart. Ya, Ya, Fishing Friends."

Anybody know of a good saltwater, long-term care facility?

Dear Lord, I am so glad you thought up aging. I would hate to be that Adam and Eve age all my life and miss childhood and elderhood. In Your sameness, I bet You made up growing up and growing old just for fun.