Just as Jonathan and I were dozing off to sleep Sunday night, I heard footsteps in the house and then an engine starting in the driveway. Startled wide awake, I realized Sam must be heading off to an emergency call.
And my volunteer fireman son wasn't just heading off--he was roaring off at top speed!
The next thing we heard was the assistant chief's vehicle roaring down the road, too, also at top speed.
The next thing we heard was the assistant chief's vehicle roaring down the road, too, also at top speed.
Well, sleep was fleeing by then, and soon I was up wondering and wandering, praying for the emergency and for my son and doing other quiet things.
Sam had rushed off the night before as well to help when somebody had a fall.
This time, I would learn the next morning, it was a roll-over, and the driver had left the rolled-over truck blocking Rt. 24 and had disappeared.
Being the mom of a volunteer fireman makes life interesting, especially when I am also the mom of six other children who keep life hopping.
But then there is Danny.
The quiet one.
The one who enjoys fishing.
I was eager to get on home three weeks ago after camping for the weekend.
But Danny wanted to do some more fishing and so, while several of the other children headed toward home in Sam's truck, Jonathan parked our van and trailer a while by a lake.
We called it Lilypad Lake.
It was covered with blooming lilypads.
Danny caught a big fish in a short time, and then he caught another one.
So Jonathan decided to stay longer, until he could catch at least one more.
I brought my journal down and sat on a rock to write in it--and saw a scuttling tick on that same rock,
the first tick I think I ever saw just walking on a rock instead of on a person.
Usually, I don't see ticks until they are on or in someone!
Well, I brushed the tick away, and sat writing and watching and otherwise just being quiet for a while,
out in the woods by the lilypad lake.
"He leadeth me beside the still waters."
There was something about being quiet, just drinking in the beauty and the stillness and letting the quietness rest our constantly frazzled spirits,
watching our son flick his line here and there and then stand over-the-knee deep in the quiet lake,
waiting for a bite.
We didn't know what life would hold for us in just the next few weeks--
everything from rattlesnakes to a man attempting suicide by jumping off a bridge.
But for nearly three hours, we just walked, and sat, and watched our quiet son
fishing in Lilypad Lake.
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