What More Could I Want?

            If I could create my own “happy place”, it would have to be a cabin on a private, medium sized bass lake. I grew up fishing the rivers and lakes of Illinois. Some of my best childhood memories are tied to these trips. In fact, freedom to follow God is linked to fishing in an interesting sort of way. While I was in college, my father was able to purchase a small piece of property on an 11 acre lake. Summers were the best. We would spend humid, quiet evenings casting for bass. He had a small 14 foot boat that he left right on the edge of the lake. Our favorite game was to look for those special “hot spots” along the bank that might hold a promising largemouth. Who ever spotted it first got the first cast. It had better be a good one. If you missed, you didn’t get a second chance. We ended up getting pretty accurate.

When I graduated from college, I took a job in Southern California, and later moved to the San Francisco Bay area. Now the fishing buddies we more than 2000 mile away from each other. As God added children to our family, it became increasingly harder to travel home for summer visits to fish with him.

One cold February afternoon while preparing to go ice fishing on the lake, my father had a heart attack. It was the perfect storm scenario actually. He decided not to wait for the other guy to get there and had hand drilled four holes in the ice himself. He had no phone in the cabin. When his buddy arrived thirty minutes later, he had to walk to the nearest farm house to call. The ambulance got stuck in the snow. They had to go back to the farmhouse to get a truck to push the ambulance out of the snow. By the time he reached the hospital almost two hours had passed. He didn’t live through the night. After the shock wore off, I started processing my emotions. I felt anger and some guilt. I told myself that if I had been back in Illinois, it wouldn’t have happened. If I would have been there, I could have gotten him help sooner.

As I muddled through the grief, anger and guilt, I remembered a conversation with my father that had happened a few years earlier. I think we were coming home from a fishing trip. Although I can’t recall the destination, I remember the conversation as if it had happened yesterday. I remember asking my dad if he ever regretted me moving so far away to California. After giving me one of those “that’s one of the dumbest questions I’ve ever heard” looks, he simply asked me two questions. Are you doing what you are supposed to do? Yes, I said. Are you where God wants you to be? Again, I answered yes. He smiled at me and said, “What else can I ask for? All my children are serving God. What more can I want.”  Peace overwhelmed me. I know that my dad would have liked to spend more time fishing. But I also know he died a happy man.

Fishing buddies got my rod and my reel

Fishing buddies let me tell you how I feel

When you’re fishing with me there’s no place I’d rather be

Fishing buddies just you and me.

                                                                                                        M. D. Cross