I caught two fish on my recent river trip with my Dad and brother.  Here’s the story.

Several weeks ago, my Dad had called me with a sudden – and very surprising – request: would I join him and my brother on a fishing trip from May 7-11?

Well, like you I’m sure, I felt like “jumping out” of my planned life for a whole week on such short notice would be difficult.  Especially since this would have to be “sandwiched” between two other long-standing speaking/leading commitments out of town: and I hate being away from church (you, dear friends!) for more than a week at a time!

I hesitated.  And asked the Lord about it.  “Should I ask him to do it later, another time?”.  I felt His response was clear: “Do it now. Otherwise it’ll get lost in the shuffle of the calendar, and never happen.  P.S.  He’s almost 88 years old”.

And so down to my ancestral stomping grounds I went, to the tiny village (pop. 200) of Plato, Missouri.  Every year as a child, I and my family would travel there from crowded suburban New Jersey, to the rolling hills and open forests of the Ozarks – to see both sets of grandparents, fish, hike, clown around, and have woodland adventures (yes, I really have hillbilly roots.  You’re now thinking, “that explains a lot”.)

It was more than a bit mind-blowing for the three of us to be there together.  While our individual relationships have been good, our family unit had imploded long ago – and the three of us had actually never been in the same room together for some 30 years… 

And so there we were, the three of us standing by the creek we used to fish, swim, and play in as boys and father… and flooded with memories.    My Dad’s memories stretched back even further: he was born and raised in Plato, played on this creek back when it was actually a full river: over 80 years ago.  A brilliant blue sky overhead, wind in the riverbank trees, and the conversation bantered back and forth on the (ever-increasing) size of the fish we used to catch.

And then – with no warning at all – my brother asked if we could remember/celebrate his baptism by re-enacting it...   Now, as you all know, it’s not easy to get me speechless.  But he succeeded.  Was he serious?  Or was this some attempt at humor?   I admit that inside I balked.  My diving into a more intimate, intense personal relationship with Jesus some 40 years ago didn’t really go over well -- at the time -- with my family.  I knew He had since been catching up with them.  But I didn’t see this one coming.   After catching my breath, I said, “of course”… prayed for him... broke into tears, and poured the water on him... in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit...

But there was more.  I heard a voice behind me say, “me too”.  It was my father, ball cap in hand.  And we re-enacted his baptism… at the exact same spot where the first one took place.

76 years ago.

We followed up the moment with a big group hug: and lots more tears… as the creek rolled by, so did any regrets.  Downstream. 

I don’t know all that you’re dealing with in your family of origin.  Some of you have loved ones that refuse to surrender to love, renewal, and new beginnings.  You can’t make them do so.  Some are no longer here. You can perhaps only forgive from your side – and that you can do: for your sake, if nothing else.  But others of you:  you never know what God can do.  I certainly admit I didn’t.   Is there a renewal your family needs to have?  Have you put someone in a “box”: only to discover the prisoner is you?

I caught two fish on my trip, all right.  The two-legged kind.  The first two men in my life, restored to my heart in a fresh new way.

Oh, I caught two other fish, of the finned and scaly kind.  I let them go.

The other two fish I’m keeping.

All my love from the Healer of hearts,

 Jim Tilley