Writing, Fishing, and the Overthrow of the Current World Order

My sabbatical schedule involves a couple of components:

Writing begins every weekday morning at 8:00 a.m. and lasts for four hours.  I’ve hammered out the first three chapters to a level that has overcome (somewhat) my urge to endlessly rewrite.  In the old days of publishing before Amazon Createspace, a hard copy book in print meant it was written in stone, typos and all, awkward wording and all, unclear passages and all, until you sold your initial print run of 3,000 or 5,000.  In the meantime, you chafed under your book’s imperfections, and looked forward to fixing it.  These days though, you can change text even after it has gone through editing, publishing, and in the midst of copies being sold.  Has that knowledge comforted me?  Not really.  It just means someone out there runs the risk of buying and reading something I might need to change.  My daily quest for perfection continues.

Fishing starts a couple times a week at 7:30 p.m. and lasts until 8:15 or 8:30 p.m. The trip to the water is incredibly short, since my backyard runs right down to the river.  I’ll fish off the dock, or, as I have done a few times already, take a kayak.  I’m a relative Johnny-come-lately to the kayak world, which means I had never been in one until last week.  First experience was fine.  I handily caught a bass in minutes of being on the water.  Next experience, not so good.  The kayak turned upside down, dumping me–and my gear–in the river.  I did some deep sea salvage work and got everything back, although my cell phone would never be the same.   R.I.P. Google Pixel.  You served me well.

Devotionals begin at approximately 6:15 a.m.  Looks like I’ll finish the New Testament before my sabbatical is over.  It’s an amazing thing, always, to see how God’s word supplies you with prayer subjects that actually matter to Him.  For instance, yesterday I made it up to Revelation 17 & 18, where God was judging Babylon.  Have you ever prayed for Him to triumph against world powers?  It is qualitatively different than praying for things bound within our sphere of interest.  This isn’t to say our concerns are irrelevant (I do pray for myself, my wife, my health, etc.!), but when you pray, strictly speaking, for someone else’s interests, they become yours.  It’s another good reason why when Jesus taught us to pray, He included, ..thy kingdom come, thy will be done… 

Oh, and don’t forget rest.  For me that means not having to relentlessly drive myself from one thing to another.  To have a clear calendar the second half of the day.  To be able to hang out at the pool with my wife.  To go for a drive, or not.  To visit relatives, or not.

Or just to sit there.

 

4 comments

  1. Well, I’m enjoying this vicariously! I retire after September and am looking forward to much more time to reflect, write, and enjoy the outdoors.

    I too once turned over a canoe with a bigmouth bass on the line! (In a small bog off a lake in Boundary Waters … I didn’t lose a cellphone, but lots of lures, and by the time I made it out of the water had bonded with about two dozen leeches below the waist. Yuk.)

    I also left my Google Pixel out on the forest floor when mushroom hunting last year. Looked for hours, couldn’t find it. Returned a week later after I had time to construct a grid search in my mind of the hill where I had lost it. Started at the top and found it in my 7th pass on the way down. In the intervening week it had rained and snowed. But when I picked it up it came happily to life! (Apparently just getting it sprinkled isn’t as bad as total immersion.) I assume you tried the old store-it-in-a-bag-of-dried-rice trick (which has worked for me with several phones and a digital camera I dropped into a lake in Texas).

    Thanks for sharing the journey!

    1. Thanks, Larry. And yes, that Pixel was a disappointment. It shouldn’t have been so temperamental. By the way, I went with a buddy of mine to the boundary waters back in ’15, who got leeches, too. One of them–the biggest, fattest one, burst in the tent.

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