2 Fish.

I stood on the dock peering down into the clear Maine water.

The air was cool, and my fishing line freshly baited with a worm.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

My out-of-use fireplace is a fun space to decorate,

but I felt like it was too dark.

While viewing other blogs,

I came across the idea of using a white base

and a mirror in the back

to help ad some brightness

and visual interest.

I painted a retired cabinet door white and set it on the floor of the fireplace,
and then placed this old mirror I had in the back...

but it was obvious to me that the mirror was too small.


I knew that if I went to the charity store
and found the right sized frame,
and if I could find a mirror that was larger than the frame,
I could have the mirror cut for a minimal cost.

I found a huge wall bathroom mirror;
it was $3.50 because one of the corners was broken.

But the frame was most important to me:
I wanted just the right size that I had measured,
and I wanted something that looked elegant,
but country.

I wondered if it would be possible with all my requirements.

So I silently and a bit sheepishly prayed,
"God, I hope this doesn't sound selfish,
but could you help me find the right pieces for my mirror?
It doesn't have to be today; I could live with what I have for now,
but I sure wouldn't mind if you'd help me out with this."

Praying specific prayers for seemingly foolish things
brings to mind a favorite story from when I was a child...

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


Our vacation cabin in Maine sat right on a lake.

I looked out across it to the boat they were on,

my father and my older sister,

and heard their voices across the rippling waves.

I had decided to fish off the dock,

telling my father I'd prayed for two big catfish.
My mother had just finished going through chemotherapy treatments
and the doctor said the best thing for her was fresh fish.

I told him I had seen one drifting under that dock.

My father laughed:

there were no fish under that dock,

not with the canoes and row boats coming and going.

In my nine year old mind, it didn't matter.

I felt safer on land 

and besides, God was bigger than row boats and canoes.

A child has the distinct advantage of not being encumbered by the world;

its heavy dose of burdens haven't worked to lace him with pessimism
or dampened his enthusiasm for the small things.

Simplicity and innocence mask children to the reality of...

well,...

"reality."

As a child, I talked to God as if he was right there with me,

all day,

anytime.

"As if," 

see that?

Where is that childlike faith?

He was and is right here with me,

all day,

anytime.

Life, when its ugly points unfold and the world's empty philosophy daily strikes out at me,

punches down the child-like faith that I am so thankful to have known.

Dropping my line directly down in front of me off the pier,

I watched as the large catfish I'd seen earlier

came out and swiftly swallowed my bait.

Not long after his removal and a new worm positioned on the hook,

his brother followed a similar fate.

My father answered my bold announcement from the boat,

his unbelief wanting to see proof for my fishtale.

And so now, as a mother, a wife, a daughter, a friend,

a pedestrian on the sidewalk of life,

my moment-by-moment prayers that I breathed as a child

are dimmed by clean laundry baskets that get tipped over by rushing children,

bowls of Rice Crispies that spill on the floor,

socks and books that beckon from random locations,

their holes yawning their need for thread and needle,

jagged torn pages demanding tape.

My eyes look down,...

and I don't remember to pray.

Grumbling and prayer, like oil and water,

will not mix together on the same lips.

But,

when it happens,...

...when a prayer that is very dear and near to the heart is answered,

when my eyes see it unfold,

for the prayer I uttered even though my heart did not believe,
I feel awakened.
I am overwhelmed by the joy that I remembered feeling
as I lifted that fish out of the water.

It wasn't anything special about me,

but something amazing about a God who cared,

that His reality was smiling on me
just as real as my father's incredulous smile
as his boat bumped against the shore.

It is a joy unspeakable,

a treasure I sorrow that those who do not believe that God exists

may never have the humbling incredibility to feel.

Prayer is the hand reaching out to God,

the eyes looking away from the worry,

the burden lifted from the shoulders

and rested in His palms.

The answer,

however many minutes, hours, days, weeks,

years...

is our ability to see His smile.

 Tonight, for my mirror
and for answered prayers much larger
that have been years in the waiting,

I'm thankful to have seen God's smile
and I reflect it back with my own.

"Ask, and it shall be given you;

seek, and ye shall find;

knock, and it shall be opened unto you:

For every one that asketh receiveth;

and he that seeketh findeth;

and to him that knocketh it shall be opened.

Or what man is there of you,

whom if his son ask bread,

will he give him a stone?

Or if he ask a fish, will he give him a serpent?

If ye then, being evil, know how to give good gifts to your children,

how much more shall your Father

which is in heaven

give good things to them that ask him?"
Matthew 7:7-11

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