Once upon a time, yesterday I found myself kneeling by the River. My imagination began to conjure a memory. I felt a fresh joy over ways God provides. God provides joy in small and big ways. In that moment God provided a small, bright orange fish. Aw! It was dried out yet it’s radiant color remained. There was a log, too, glistening, moving water, and there was warm sunshine. Not too hot. It was just what I needed during this Pandemic. A restorative respite from isolation.

Every”one” enjoys a good view, don’t they, even this little minnow. I giggled there on my knees. My hands gingerly posed, toyed with the fish-ie. Soon I imagined a story of the little fish returning to the sea. I photographed the tale for you to see.

Yes, the small fish would return to the sea after enjoying the view a while. I rehearsed the tale of the fish being drawn out of the waters by the Apostle Peter. Jesus told Peter to go to the sea, cast his line and take the coin from the mouth of the first fish he caught; then take that coin and pay their taxes. (Matthew 17:27)

Haha! How Peter must have laughed. Yet, the Apostle had witnessed fish multiplying to feed thousands as well as fishing nets bulging from the largest catch he ever witnessed. Then there was the time after Jesus had been crucified, buried, and seen risen, alive and well, Peter had fished all night and caught nothing. Jesus was standing on the beach— “Have you caught anything?” “No. Nothing.” “Cast your net on the other side of the boat,” Jesus shouted back to Peter. You probably know the story recorded by the Apostle John (Chp 21). One hundred fifty-three large fish were caught and brought to shore. Jesus started the fire for that meal shared on the beach. So, the Apostle Matthew, the Tax-collector recorded the story of Peter, the line, the fish, the coin, taxes to be paid.

Now, I was kneeling. My heart rejoiced over God’s provision. God does provide joy in small and big things, joy over a small, bright orange fish, a log, moving waters, and play. A restorative respite.

The log was there sitting at the end of the cement wharf next to the boat dock. Temperature was mild. Humidity was low. I was breathing easily without supplemental oxygen. Another car came at one point but the driver remained on the hill. I wondered only for a moment what he might be thinking. Then, returned to my play.

Peace & Joy,
Carol