Son of the Kenai

Son of the Kenai
Why do you wait,
Watching the children
Of the Lower Forty-eight?

The storm clouds hang heavy
In the afternoon sky.
If it were a clear day
Would you give it a try?

Is the thirty-two degree water
Maybe holding you back?
Or are there too many already
Fishing along the bank?

No?

Oh.

Many are fishing,
Few are catching.
The reds have not arrived.
The time is not right.

When the sockeye red
Breaches the Kenai’s surface
Because there is
No room below it
In the moving sardine can
Between the banks,
And the rapid flow
Of the run and the river
And instinct
Keep it going.

This Son of the Kenai
Will step into the fray,
Gather his catch
In under three minutes,
And go home.

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The Oxymoronic Day on the Kenai River

I am fairly convinced that this is Fisherman Heaven. Every morning the fisherman gets up, grabs his gear, and heads to the river where millions of fish are clamoring to get upstream. These fish are nice-sized, nine to twelve pounds, and give you a fight to remember.

Frank's largest to date

On the other hand, this may be Fisherman Hell. You can only keep three. If you hook them anywhere but the mouth, you have to let them go. This is particularly difficult if this is the largest fish you have ever caught. You may catch three in under an hour, and then you have to leave so someone else can have your spot. I think that most qualifies it for the category. No fisherman I’ve ever met wants to leave a sweet spot knowing the fish are right there ready to be caught.

Another oxymoronic aspect of this once-a-year fishing bonanza is the collaborative competition going on.

One man said it was “combat fishing.” He was referring to the closeness of the fishermen lining the banks, all vying for that space where the most red salmon are coming through, and the aggravation of tangled lines and lost fish because of the proximity problem. Yes, there are many people lining the river’s edge in chest waders (hip waders sort of defeat the purpose as you are up to your waist in water) wearing fishing vests containing various needed items should you break a line, and carrying the all-important specially-rigged rod and reel combo and dip net.  Looks like they are geared for combat.

Fishing the Kenai Moose Point

On the other hand, in spite of the fierceness of the competition, one man will hand off his rod and reel, pick up a dip net and help his competitor land his fish.  How refreshing!

Kenai helper

Thank-you and congratulations exchanged, collaboration is over, lines are drawn again, and the battle is renewed.

So, if you are bipolar, this will be a piece of cake for you. If not, you may feel a series of mood swings you have never experienced before, should you attempt this adventure.

Don’t say I didn’t warn you…

 

 

Red Salmon Run on the Kenai River

It’s an exciting time on the Kenai Peninsula. The red sockeye salmon come into the rivers by the hundreds of thousands, some say over a million, swimming upstream, headed to the spawning grounds.  People line the rivers with dip nets, or specially designed rod and reel rigs, to catch them.

Fishing the Kenai Moose Point

The limit is normally three per person per day, but during the strongest point of the run, it is increased to six. They weigh on average nine to twelve pounds.

For the last few days the fishing on the Kenai River has been strong, but the catching, slow. Many showed up and fished, from twelve year-old children to seventy-five year old men and women. And they came from all over: Wisconsin, Michigan, Louisiana, Texas, Florida, and elsewhere.  Some caught the limit, but it took half a day to do it. Others walked away with nothing.

This gentleman caught his limit and was cleaning them at the station provided for that purpose on the dock.

Kenai River fish 1

The word was out this morning that the “run is in.” In other words, the bulk of the red salmon is in the river now and headed upstream. I was told earlier in the week that when this happens, you could almost walk across the river on them, there are so many. I suspect today will not only be a strong fishing day, but a strong catching day.

There is a special way to fish for these, nothing like we fish in Florida. They are caught by hooking them in the mouth totally by chance. They do not feed, so they are not biting. They are swimming; your hook just happens to be going by them as they swim and hooks them.  I know, crazy.  Some fishermen have a knack for it though and if the red are out there, they will catch them.

When the catching is slow, the fishermen stand out there and do the “Kenai Flip” for hours on end hoping to hook one. The “Kenai Flip?” You stand in the water, flip your line upstream, and let it drift downstream past you. The lead weight located on the line about five feet up drops to the bottom allowing your fly to float up, hanging there for the unwary salmon to run into. When the line is fully extended about ten feet past you and you have no tug on it, you pull your line with your left hand and flip your rod tip back to the right, bringing the lead, hook, etc. back to you. Then the process starts over.

If you do snag one, the fight is on. You can only keep them if they are snagged in the mouth. A fish hooked in the mouth is easier to lead in than one snagged elsewhere, but still likely to be a fighter. A dip net is a must. Landing the fish is easier with two people: one to reel and one to dip. Perfect strangers grab a dip net to help land a fish. It is exciting and refreshing to watch.

Kenai Fishing dip net fish

Those who live in the area and have the “knack” as they say, walk away with a full stringer…

R. Miller and his wife catch their limit.
R. Miller and his wife catch their limit.

My husband, Frank, was happy with his first catch!

Kenai Fishing Frank

Looking to load up today!

(Yep, he just called me… Going well.  Pictures to follow.)

I Didn’t Plan for That

As most of you know, teachers plan. Extensively. One type of plan is a curriculum map. We map out the entire year to make sure we cover the skills our students need to be successful. The idea didn’t start with us, nor are we the best at it. It started with Him. God plans.

…I have it all planned out—plans to take care of you, not abandon you, plans to give you the future you hope for. (‭Jeremiah‬ ‭29‬:‭11‬ MSG)

Sometimes the way is easy. We can see pretty well. We kind of know what to expect from life. We may need to shift our backpack to the other shoulder at some point, but it’s lightweight and easy to carry, so no problem. Like hiking down a shady country road. Pure joy. Great to be alive. Suck in that fresh air!

Country Road

Yes, life is good, until…

A mountain pops up, seemingly out of nowhere.

Oh, we kind of saw it coming, but we ignored the horizon, hoping we were wrong.  We weren’t.

“You need surgery.” or

“It is cancer, I’m sorry.” or

“I don’t love you anymore.” or

“Your position has been cut.” or

“I’ll see you in court.”

Whatever the catch phrase of the mountain, now we have to face it.

Walking here is not so easy. It’s rough, and sometimes we fall down, or tumble backward. Even the most lightweight backpack gets heavy. The light is dim; the air, foggy.  It can be scary.

Kenai mt3

We want to quit, just stop and sit down. Pretend there is no mountain.

But… then we’d be stuck.

No, we have to keep going. We look around for a path.

We pray more, seeking Him, wondering where He is in all of this.

He answers, “I have it all planned out—plans to take care of you, not abandon you, plans to give you the future you hope for. (‭Jeremiah‬ ‭29‬:‭11‬ MSG)

What a relief!

God doesn’t abandon us just because our scenery changes.

And though He didn’t put the mountain there – it is the natural result of a rumbling, ever-changing world-

He is not surprised by it. He knew it was there. And… He planned for it. Even if we didn’t.

His plan may involve mountain removal.  He could guide through the mountain pass, or maybe even reveal a path around it. Whatever the plan calls for.

He knows exactly what we need to be successful, and if we will follow where He leads,

His plan will give us the future we hope for.

I May Be in the Back Seat, but I’m Still On the Road

Usually when I am in the car, I drive. Unless, of course, my husband is in the car. Then he drives. It’s simple really. The ranking person drives. He taught me that rule.

Recently my eyes were giving me a little trouble so I went to the eye doctor. He said I had an eye infection and for several days I would need to use antibiotic drops. He also said I couldn’t wear my contact lenses. Now that’s a real problem. I don’t have glasses that are my current prescription, so without my contact lenses, I can’t drive. My husband works out-of-state.

My youngest daughter agreed to take me anywhere I wanted to go. She is a good driver and I had no doubts about my safety. She drove me to church that next Sunday and though I was in the front passenger seat, I still felt like I was in a scene from “Driving Miss Daisy.” I didn’t complain. I was glad to be able to go to church. The novelty of it all had not yet worn off.

Fast forward… Days later. Walmart. I’m not sure if I felt like an elderly person or a small child, but certainly not a responsible adult totally in charge of the situation. Walking around holding onto the cart my daughter pushed, if I saw someone I knew, I didn’t really know them because I couldn’t really see them. (Don’t laugh…) I tried to be polite; I failed. Yes, I know it isn’t polite to stare at a person until either your eyes cross or the person gets close enough for you to recognize them.

We checked out and wouldn’t you know it, rain began to fall. It began softly, and quickly turned into a gully-washer. My car was only seven or eight parking spots out, so we took off running. With every stride the rain came down harder.  When we got to my car, I opened the door and jumped in the back seat, telling my daughter to hand me the bags. (I know, I’m awful). Everything was soaked. She emptied the cart and I placed all of the bags around me. I looked like a half-drowned rat sitting in a sea of gray plastic. She took the cart to the cart station and returned to the car. The rain had not let up. Looking like a fully-drowned rat, she began to drive home. (Funny how things get turned around.)

I told her I didn’t have a towel in the car anymore and that I had taken it out because it never rained while the towel was in there. She told me I needed to put it back in. As she turned the radio on to her station, contemporary Christian, I thanked God for her. She had been sweet through it all.

The ride was pleasant. Sitting there in the back seat, I realized that I was not in control of my situation and I was okay with that. Is this how it will feel when I am old and someone else has to take care of me? I suspect that my comfort at that moment dwelt in the fact that though I was not in control, I trusted the one who was. My daughter, yes, but more than that, the One who holds me always in the palm of His hand.

There have been times in my life, had I insisted on being in control and doing the driving, I would have run into things I didn’t know were there. He can see better than I can. Yes, sometimes the back seat is just fine.

Trust in the LORD with all your heart, And lean not on your own understanding; In all your ways acknowledge Him, And He shall direct your paths. (‭Proverbs‬ ‭3‬:‭5-6‬ NKJV)

A Circle of Quiet

 

How blessed the man you train, GOD, the woman you instruct in your Word, Providing a circle of quiet within the clamor of evil, while a jail is being built for the wicked. GOD will never walk away from his people, never desert his precious people. (‭Psalm‬ ‭94‬:‭12-14 MSG)

Have you ever needed a force field around you? Ever felt like you were being bombarded on all sides? I love the way these verses from the Psalms speak to that. The meaning is universal and timeless. (Isn’t all scripture?). From Israelis in a Jerusalem bomb shelter to a stay-at-home mom in small town USA, God’s Word on the inside of them can provide that circle of peace.

I recently viewed a YouTube video of folks singing a song of peace in a Jerusalem bomb shelter. I was amazed. If I could speak the language, I would have sung along with them. I am praying for those in bomb shelters anywhere in the world, that they will have the inner peace God provides while the world around them is clamoring.

The “clamor of evil” in homes across our land may not be as loud or well-known, but can be just as intense. When my son had chicken pox at eighteen months of age and developed Reyes Syndrome, a condition that killed many infants that year, I knew I was in a battle for his life. His pediatrician sent him home to die.  He told me he could do nothing for him. His internal organs were extremely swollen and already past the point of medicinal intervention. The brain would swell next, and then it would be over. I felt like he had just dropped a bomb on me.

Everything I knew about God from the scriptures held me together as I took my son home. I prayed and remembered that His Son took our sicknesses and carried our diseases. I took my battle to Him. Isaiah 53 was my battle cry.  A peace came over me in that prayer time. A circle of quiet. My son did recover. Completely. No brain damage or lasting ill effects on his internal organs. He turns thirty-six in a few days, a picture of health.

We are blessed to know He can quiet the storm, or as this verse says, He can quiet His precious one in the storm. Sometimes He does both.

Handling Disappointment

There I was, minding my own business, doing what I normally do the second week of summer. As I am a public school teacher, I was doing teacher stuff : planning for next year, reading material pertinent to my teaching assignment, thinking deep thoughts about how to improve attendance. We teachers are never really off for the summer, we just let go of one group of kids and spend the summer planning for the next group. I had heard wonderful things about the group coming up and visualized the amazing learning activities that would be going on in my classroom next year.

The phone rang. It was my principal. She reminded me that at the last faculty meeting she told us she may make some changes over the summer. “Do you remember ?”

“Umm, yes… ” (Gasp. Oh, no! What is she doing? Surely she is not going to change MY teaching assignment! I’ve been doing this for a long time! I love what I do!)

“Well, I thought about you teaching Language Arts at a different grade level. I’m having you and Ms. XYZ swap teaching assignments. She will loop up with her students and you will drop in and teach that grade. Same subject area, different grade. What do you think?”

The tantrum-throwing little girl in me was screaming, “No, I do not want to do that! Why can’t you just leave me where I am? I’m happy and comfortable. Besides, I’ve already made big plans for next year.” But the fully-grown professional woman in me stifled the brat and said, “I trust your judgment. You know what is best for our school. I’ll do whatever you want me to.”

“I appreciate that. Come in sometime soon. We’ll sit down and discuss the details, okay? You’ll be great in that grade level. Matter of fact, you could teach any grade level here. I have that much confidence in your abilities.”

“Thank you.”

“See you then.”

“Okay, bye.” I hung up and cried like a baby.

In the midst of the pity party that followed, I began to pray. Well, whine to God would be more accurate. “God, why is this happening? Was I such a failure as an eighth grade teacher? Why didn’t she just tell me what I need to work on? I didn’t ask for a move. Did Ms. XYZ? Why should she get what she wants?” At this point, negative thoughts were pummeling any positive reasoning that tried to intervene. I felt like a total failure. (BTW, Ms. XYZ and the principal are good friends of mine and didn’t deserve those negative thoughts.)

A few days later, while trudging through my daily chores, still depressed over the phone call, I stopped in the kitchen, poured a glass of 100% grape juice (good for you when you are stressed) and went out onto the back porch. My negativity came right along, dragging behind me like a five-foot-seven string of toilet paper stuck to my shoe. Plopping down into the cushioned porch chair, I continued to wallow. All of the planning I had done – out the window. Are the students I will have mature enough for the way I run my classroom? Definitely have to change the rigor. I have to change everything. Everything.

A wave of “I’m a failure; why else would she change me” hit me again and the tears fell. I closed my eyes. “Lord, help me. I kind of feel like Joseph when he was sent to prison. He didn’t do anything wrong, but yet he had to go to prison. Everybody I work with is going to look at me and ask why she changed my assignment. They are going to know I failed. I don’t even want to face them.”

PRIDE. Big bold letters flashed in my mind. (I’m a visual learner.) I agreed. And repented. Humble Pie is good for me, but I don’t like the taste of it. “Help me to accept this assignment, even though it’s a disappointment.”

DISAPPOINTMENT. Again, big bold letters. “Yes, Sir. That describes my state of mind right now.”

I watched as a hand separated the letters, moving the DIS to the left. My Counselor said, “Drop the S. Drop all the negative Stuff you’ve been thinking, all the lies you’ve believed about yourself since she called.”

“Gladly.” I watched the S swirl down and out of sight.

“Add VINE, because you are going to grow through this experience and reach some you would not have otherwise. If you will stay in the Vine, you will have fruit, good fruit.”

That excited me. DI + VINE. Right there on the stage in my mind were the words DIVINE APPOINTMENT.

Jaw drop. Worship. Tears of joy. Grateful, thankful heart.