Husband, Sandy, is downstream skillfully casting his line, content. Meanwhile, further upstream, I’m fighting to untangle my line, irritated with the bush that grabbed it from behind me – (don’t ask). A mere ten minutes since we arrived at our favorite fishing hole, I dare not ask for help, not yet. Waving and smiling downstream, masquerading as competent and relaxed, I shield the frazzled scene with my back, tackling the lassoed bush. Victorious, line free, I check for snakes (a common ritual), and select a log, facing the TARGET fishing hole.
Slipping on rubber gloves, thinking of Sophie’s Choice, I select the unlucky worm, destined for surgery by hook. Scoping my cast target, I notice Gabe, our yellow lab, standing midstream up to his belly, gazing purposely, nose upward. Through his big brown eyes, I see the magnificence of the rock striations, the wonder of the trees, the brilliance of the sun’s light show, and the splendor of the breeze tickling his ears. Even the birds chirp praise while circling above him, nearly a halo, fearlessly aware that this Kingdom moment overshadows his desire to chase.
My eyes wide open, I join in worship, watching Gabe wag his tail for God’s sake… literally. I know the many faces of my dog – a special face for hungry, lonely, playful and the distinct look of shame when guilty… but this look? Praise to God almighty.
Isaiah 11:6 The wolf will live with the lamb, the leopard will lie down with the goat, the calf and the lion and the yearling together; and a little child will lead them.