Echoing the Presence of God

A remark made by naturalist John Muir more than a century ago has managed to lodge itself into my mind.

I only went out for a walk and finally concluded to stay out till sundown, for going out, I found, was really going in.

Waist deep in the cool waters of Bennett Springs, my face and neck warmed by the sun, I felt a sense of oneness with the earth. Trout, both large and small, were meandering within inches of my feet, and Nature was playing one of her beautiful orchestral arrangements, echoing the presence of God. Brady and I made sure to apply ample amounts of sunscreen due to the fact that pale is "in" this season, and because Callie was kind enough to remind us before our departure.

The retirees fly fishing around me seemed to have perfected this art, convincing numerous trout to strike. But by swinging the fly back and forth through the air, the first thing I managed to catch was the crotch of my waders. My original focus was ostensibly on avoiding this region, but to no advantage. Hoping to limit this occurrence, and having grown frustrated by my lack of technique, I switched to a spin-casting rod. Although it came several hours after we arrived, I eventually caught my first trout, and it was worth every minute of it. But alas, I joined ranks as a bearer of the "one that got away" tale. Brady was downstream and sole possessor of the net, so when the fish danced, I watched in slow motion, helplessly, as the fish followed the trajectory toward the waters below. But whatever loss I experienced was overwhelmingly less than what I took out of this adventure.

Great conversations permeated the day, and gave rise to quality time spent with someone I truly consider a brother. The weather was delightful from beginning to end, starting with warm sun and closing with a thunderstorm rolling in.

Stillness and silence were satisfying for my soul. I was reminded of when the Lord speaks to Elijah on Mount Horeb...not in the wind...not in the earthquake...not in the fire...but, instead in a low whisper. There, in the stream, I am filled with a deep inner silence and wait for a still, small voice.

He speaks tenderly and reminds me that we are never alone.