Life is full of precious moments. Most such moments seem to slip by without remark till later, when reflection brings forth the deeper more profound nature of the treasured experience. I believe all moments are holy, that each moment is a gift. Maybe just some are more precious than others? I imagine we can all reflect on special moments in our lives. We all have lots of them, those memories we store in secure vaults in the Fort Knox of our minds. The ones that we use to define our very existence.
I wonder how often we take the time to relate them to others. I wrote once about "My Favorite Things." I like to revisit that thought often. It reminds me of the things for which I am most thankful. Since I started this on line version of a diary, I am thinking that when some new such treasure should come along I should write it down in hopes that some other might find some vicarious pleasure in the sharing. That is after all the purpose of this whole exercise.
I recently had another such day. Spring time in the Florida panhandle. A glorious day. Bright blue sky with just enough clouds to blunt the overwhelming blue. A light breeze out of the north that always kept you cool, even when the sun beating on your skin warmed you deep to the core of your being. In the shade you might get a chill, but in the sun was the perfect balance. The birds were singing, the trees past the initial flush of blooms were now just starting to leaf out. The smell of spring fresh in the air. Freshly plowed fields were everywhere, many with just the beginnings of this new crop just starting to become apparent in the fields. The panhandle is flat, and I am sure I was looking at clouds at least a state away. Simply put, a glorious day.
School was out, and we had promised to do something special with our granddaughter. It was going to be another attempt at making special memories. Sometimes it works, sometimes the events of the day conspire to make the day something out of a Steven King novel. Just like Forest Gump's box of chocolates, You just never know what you are going to get. Today we got chocolate covered truffles.
It was Jeni's idea to take Katelynn to a catfish farm she saw in an advertisement. This seemed a little silly to me as we have a pond in the front yard that I have stocked with catfish. We fish there often. Why go somewhere else to fish when you have your own pond? Still, this is forwarded as an adventure, and adventure means going someplace new. Lord above am I glad I kept my reservations to myself.
The owners of the place we were going to visit are Mennonites. Very friendly, and especially easy to identify from their dress. It was obvious early on that they had a special family, and a special connection with life and their place in it. Genuine. Sincere. These words come to mind on reflection with our contact with the owners of the catfish farms we were visiting. Before we ever made it out to the ponds, we were already feeling "connected". They provided everything. Poles, bait, and extra hooks and bobbers if we should break the line. Perfect. They sent us down the dirt road and off we went. They have three large ponds (the neighbors have another two). The ponds are roughly two acres in size (maybe a little larger), square, mud bottom, and are well stocked. The pond has several large aerators working at one end of the pond. Around the pond you could see other families involved in the same pursuit. Clearly visible, but not so close that you felt them as intrusions. You could here their laughter, but never make out exactly what it was they were saying. You could see and enjoy the excitement whenever anyone caught a fish. The perfect balance of seclusion and inclusion. The catfish were jumping all around the pond (especially out in the middle). There had to be some whoppers in there (the owner told me that just the week before a man had caught one close to thirty pounds). It was................. perfect.
We found an open area, got the fishing gear, cooler, and folding chairs out of the car. The smell, that fresh slightly fishy smell of water was like a drink of cool water after working all morning outside. Birds were dipping over the pond to get a drink, the sun was reflecting off of the water....... again, perfect. It took little to no time to get the poles baited and out into the water. My granddaughter has fished. She does not like to deal with worms (most little girls don't), and her casting skills needed a little practice. The bait was not worms so she could do her own bait. This was the perfect place. No trees to get caught in, lots of shoreline, and no one close to hit with a miscast bait. By the end of the day she was a pro. We had gone back and forth as to who would catch the first, and of course the biggest fish. I think sometimes it is in the simplest of moments we might find proof of a loving providence. Katelynn caught the first fish. The fact she did not pee herself is a minor miracle. She was something to behold. First, the fashion statement she was making had to be seen to be appreciated. She had on one of her grandmothers gardening hats, a bright tee shirt, shorts, and a pair of pink gator skinned cowboy boots (a prize she and her grandmother had acquired during one of their shared yard sale excursions). The boots used to be to big, now I think they might just fit. No matter, she got one hooked and rather than using the fishing reel to bring the fish to shore, she simply backed up till a beautiful catfish found itself on the clay bank instead of in the water.
If there is any sensation or satisfaction better than seeing joy in the face of someone you love, I wonder what it might be. Her small round face just beamed. I guess the question as to who would catch the first fish was answered. I can not tell you how thankful I am that she not only caught a fish, but that she caught the first fish. Maybe life is all about the small moments. She followed that one up with a relative monster. It was a little over 6 pounds. This one she tried to reel in, but resorted to her strategy of backing up and dragging. Who am I to argue with results? Especially since the next couple of fish caught were hers. Her grandmother (who is an avid fisherman) was not having any luck. Lots of hits, but no success at setting the hook. It was then that I noticed my granddaughter actively watching her grandmother, and the look of anguish at each missed attempt was obvious on her face. She was suffering in concern for someone she loves. Heaven knows, is there any more profound demonstration of ones love?
Eventually Jeni caught some fish. I am not sure who treasured the experience more, Jeni or Katelynn. With that burden off her chest, Katelynn relaxed and just enjoyed the day. We eventually caught over thirty pounds of fish. Everyone caught enough to relish the experience. The service cleaned and cut the fillets. Now I understood the real value of coming here. I did not have to clean the fish. Again........... perfect.
We had the fish for dinner, and they were excellent. One of the better meals I ever remember eating. It was especially satisfying to see my granddaughter present the dinner she had helped prepare. She even had a small burn from where the grease had splattered on her thumb. A sore I imagine she suffered with some measure of pride.
The picture of her standing on the shoreline in her boots will be another of those moments I will lay before my maker as humble thanks for the gift of my life.
Perfection.
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