Slow and Sure or Fast and Faulty?

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Like much of the time spent in my car, I had my music on low, enjoying my time alone with my Father.  Driving down one of the major roads in my area, I was again touched by the beauty that we pass every day, often taking for granted.  I thanked my Creator once more for the profound splendor He freely bestows on us daily, if we just take the time to notice it.

If you live in SW Florida during season, (Jan/May’ish), you know what it’s like to be at the end of a very long caravan of cars on a doubled lined, two way road with plenty of curves and no hope of passing.  The little green bug at the front was going all of 40 (in a 55) and I decided to just fall back and enjoy the drive.  Yes, I could start passing one of the 10 cars at a time, or pass on a double line like the maniac in front of me with a death wish but I know from experience that the best thing to do, in order to retain my peace, is to keep my distance.  I remembered someone saying how they had passed every car on this road, only to see those they passed pull up beside them at the first red light. Slow and sure won out.   This decision was likely influenced by the fact that I was in the midst of prayer at the time.

I looked ahead and saw a couple of older gentleman standing on the side of the road, waiting for the procession of cars to pass.  I slowed down even more as I noticed one of them, who just couldn’t wait another second, begin his jaunt to the other side.  He had a fishing pole in one hand and a tackle box in the other and he practically skipped to the other side.  I chuckled at his very apparent excitement to get to his fishing perch.

His friend however, stayed motionless on the side of the road, likely realizing I was the last car in the line.  He would just wait and take his time.  It might take him a little longer, but he would get there safe and sound.  I looked in the rearview mirror as he cautiously ventured out and across the road at a leisurely pace.

It may seem silly, but it warmed my heart to see these aged men out enjoying themselves on a beautiful day.  Watching them made me think of how some of us are like the first man, always running out ahead, leaping out in faith that we’re on the right path, anxious to move forward and arrive first.  This is great, but sometimes we find ourselves in a dangerous situation because we bolted ahead and didn’t think things through.

Others are like the 2nd man; we might be in pursuit of the same goal, but we approach it more cautiously, we wait for just the right moment and the best conditions and then we slowly and carefully progress, eyes wide open for danger.   But, could this cause us to miss out?  Doesn’t the early bird get the worm?

For a few moments, I focused on trying to ascertain which man used the best method to reach the goal.   I think I am little of each but I think I often tend to be more like the 2nd man.  My desire is to be as sure of the outcome as possible, before I venture out.  My goal going forward is to be a little more like the 1st man and just jump right in sometimes, especially in matters of faith.  Where faith is concerned, I don’t want to wonder and ponder; I want to dance to the other side knowing Who is in control.

I found myself unable to pick an all-out winner though because either scenario could serve us well, dependent on the particular circumstances.  One thing I do know;  in this case, they both arrived at their intended destination, with their bodies and equipment intact.

A day on the boat

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Boating out on waves of blue

Sun shines brightly over you

Clouds are wafting slowly by

Alone, just my man and I

We find the hole he thinks is hot

Kill the engine and pick our spot

Throw the line in, wait a bit

Feel the tug, feel the hit

Set the hook and reel it in

Bait it, throw it out again

Fishing with my love is fun

Plenty to eat when the day is done

Painting in circles

SONY DSCYesterday I did something I haven’t done in approximately 35 years.  I painted buoys that will be used on our recently acquired stone crab traps. I have really tried to distance myself from this particular venture and vowed inwardly that I would not get sucked into the labor crew in any capacity.

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However, finding myself looking out the window at my hubby hard at work yesterday as I sat inside contemplating what to do, I caved.   I changed clothes, marched right out there and said, “What can I do to help?”  A few moments later, there I was, brush in hand; yellow paint drops already appearing on my flip-flop clad feet, as I made my way down the line of buoys.

As I painted, fond memories assailed me of a line of buoys strung between 2 big fichus trees in the front yard.  My brother, sister and I, adorned in “play clothes”, were anxious to paint blue circles on my dad’s buoys.  My dad was a commercial fisherman and stone crabber at the time, and depending on the task and our skill level, we could occasionally provide cheap labor.  However, if I remember correctly our great desire to work never lasted through many lines of buoys.  I will have to remember to ask my dad if we gave up on them or if he and my grandfather just grew impatient with us and encouraged us to go play.

I do remember when the buoys first arrived, prior to the branding and painting, we would usually get into trouble due to the “buoy fights” we had with neighborhood kids.  Yes, it was just as it sounds; everyone would grab a buoy and try to hit someone; if you were hit, you were out.

I remember the smell when dad would brand the buoys with his own set of numbers.  It’s funny how that smell still evokes so many childhood memories.

My husband and I both have other careers, but this will be a “supplemental” one for him and I pray it proves to be fruitful.  It is something he has always wanted to try.  So, I have decided that instead of lamenting his longer hours, fearing the imagined problems, and distancing myself from it all, it is far better to jump in, support and even try to muster up some excitement about it.

But for now, I have buoys to paint.

line of buoys stretching to the sky

line of buoys stretching to the sky

 

Weekly Photo Challenge: An Unusual Point of View

Weekly Photo Challenge:  An Unusual Point of View

My husband and daughter were in a fishing tournament today. Instead of shooting the boats straight on, I noticed a storm cloud brewing overhead, so I angled the camera up. The result was pretty cool.

Weekly Photo Challenge: Foreshadow

Foreshadow: A warning or indication of a future event.

The familiar sound of the reel shortly after my husbands bait hit the water,  indicated that a fish would soon be in the boat and a little later, on my plate.

Weekly Photo Challenge:  Foreshadow

Fishing with Mr. Patience

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I am just sitting here on this rainy night, contemplating our upcoming anniversary outing this weekend.  We will probably drive a few hours just to “get away” and go fishing, something we both enjoy and I don’t have the pleasure of doing very often.

I felt the corners of my mouth turn upward into a smile as I recalled a day of fishing with my husband when we were first married.

We were fishing one afternoon and although I enjoy it when the fish are biting and I’m catching, I’m not such a die-hard that I won’t put my pole down for a while and lay in the sun with a book for a while, (which may exceed fishing as far as the relaxation factor goes).

We were way up some creek and the bugs were buzzing, gators were cruising and the occasional fish jumped near the boat.  It was getting late, so we were hoping to catch dinner soon.  Suddenly my husband had something on, and it wasn’t giving up easily.  This motivated me so I jumped up and grabbed my pole and casted, sinking my bait right where I wanted it.

In the meantime, my husband had pulled his beautiful fish in and was anxiously awaiting my turn.  He didn’t have to wait long until I also had a bite and then he began coaching me, like he always does.  This annoys me, but he can’t help it so I just deal with it.  In my humble opinion, I did everything right.  But something went wrong, and I lost the fish and it was a big one.  Not your ordinary big one, mind you, but a monster.  My fairly new (at the time) husband lost his patience with me and proceeded to explain in a somewhat aggravated tone, that if I’d done as I was told, we would have a fat fish in the boat.

I did what I always did back then, long before I was blessed with age and wisdom and the ability to admit that I am wrong and laugh about it.  I threw my pole down, stomped to the back of the boat and sat down sulkily, book in hand, anxiously awaiting the expected apology.

He got the poles situated, grumbled for a minute and then looked back and me and smiled.  I was much too stubborn at this point (and age) to smile back so I feigned extreme interest in my book and ignored him.  A minute later, he made his way to my side and hugged me and told me he was sorry for over-reacting and within seconds, all was forgiven.  My world was righted again.

I smile now because I think of all of our absurd little arguments and how so much anxiety could have been avoided if I’d only known then what I know now.  Surely others learn more quickly than I did, certainly we don’t have to be briskly approaching fifty to begin to see things from a broader perspective.

However, watching the younger ones, I see the same silly mistakes, the same ridiculous arguments and I realize we truly do live and learn and that living out these things is sometimes the only way we can learn.  Besides, some of the arguments that seemed to be such a big deal at the time are the ones I look back and laugh about now and actually remember fondly, because of the apologies and the way love has grown through all of this.  We have lots of stories to tell our grandchildren!

So, in a day or two, we will be alone, fishing again and I will have a book and he might lose his patience, but at the end of the day, we will still have each other.  And hopefully, enough fish for dinner.

Me with a nice red

Me with a nice red

Weekly photo challenge: Culture

Weekly photo challenge:  Culture

Stone crab boats lining up for the Annual Blessing of the Fleet

In our small town, stone crabbing is a way of life for many, a part of our culture.  I took this as the boats left their docks to line up in front of the historic Rod & Gun Hotel for an annual celebration called, “The Blessing of the Fleet”.  Local ministers and community gather to corporately pray for the crabbers, their safety and for a good season.

Freeloaders

I wanted to share this with you because I find so much happiness in watching it. My husband is a fishing guide and every day when he comes in, he has some friends that hang around waiting for handouts. They seem to know when he is coming before I do and stay right with him until they get some dinner. I hope you enjoy!

This old guy begins to wait patiently for my husband to come in from fishing

This old guy begins to wait patiently for my husband to come in from fishing

I think he heard the boat coming before I did

I think he heard the boat coming before I did

About the time I can hear it coming, he takes off in flight towards it

About the time I can hear it coming, he takes off in flight towards it

soaring along, food on his mind

soaring along, food on his mind

He finds the boat and paddles along behind it all the way in

He finds the boat and paddles along behind it all the way in

Now he is joined by a friend

Now he is joined by a friend

and then there were three, eagerly awaiting their dinner

and then there were three, eagerly awaiting their dinner

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