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Connecting The Dots

Recently I was invited to a feast any outdoors person would have fought to attend.  We drooled over wild duck over wild rice with a white wine reduction; wild goose over rice with raspberry sauce; roasted wild turkey that oozed flavor and juices; deep fried salt water stripped bass breaded with ingredients so secret that the cook mixed them while hiding behind a bush; ham hocks and beans that had slowly simmered for hours to meld the flavors; garden fresh tomatoes, baked beans and slaw that were family old recipes.  It was a perfect evening as we gathered on the deck under clear robin egg blue skies.  There were just enough breezes to rustle the pines and oaks that surround the deck and keep every bug away.

Eight guys and some of their spouses joined together because of the love of the outdoors and particularly the love of tossing a ten inch woodchopper plug 75-100 feet into the waiting jaws of a hungry “Grande parvon”.  Sharing the stories of the furious attacks upon the plug, the magnificent leaps by the parvon and its acrobatics, as it would dance across the water on its tail.  With each tale the antics of the fisherman and the fish became stuff for legends.  Memories and retold stories were just as humorous and vivid as the day they occurred.  It was an evening that none that attended would ever let fade from memory or fail to relate what they learned to those who take the time to listen. Eight guys from totally different backgrounds that had nothing more in common than the love of a sport, a respect for the wild game they pursued and one individual.

Five days prior to the gathering I received a call from a dear friend and fishing buddy requesting that I “knock off work” and get together with him at his home for an unusual dinner.  Now I enjoy playing hooky as much as the next person, but canceling half of my schedule, driving a 12 hour round trip for a 2 ½ hour meal and being at the office at 7:20AM the next morning took me back, but only for a “nano second”.  My friend told me he wanted to “connect the dots”. 

One morning not long ago he slid his legs out bed then crashed to the floor, paralyzed.  He was taken to the hospital where he and his wife were told that his lung cancer had started to grow and it was only a matter of time before it won the battle.  He decided he wanted to be in his own bed at home where he could share time with his family.  No one is sure how long that time will be.

The repast that was shared that evening was not to lament but to laugh and celebrate.  At first I thought, what a great opportunity to go and tell him and his wife I was thinking about them, praying for them and that Connie and I cared.  What a gift I thought.  Better than flowers, a card or another telephone call. As I hugged him, told him I loved him and he said he loved me I walked to my car.  Then it hit me as I left I realized it was I who had received the gift!  I am one of the dots!  Sometimes what later seem so obvious aren’t in the moment they occur. 


Who are the “dots” in your life?  Can you connect them or are you still in the tomorrow, which never arrives.

  • Maintain the memories and never loose the addresses of those who helped you create them.  You never know when that day will arrive when you will want to thank them for helping create those memories with you.
  • Look forward to loosing control of your circumstances and situations you find yourself in. It is amazing what you can learn.
  • Allow yourself to be the receiver and not the giver.  Receiving a gift or acknowledgment isn’t that tough.  Just learn how to say thank you from the heart.
  • Be a good dot!
  • Remember memories are connected by permanent ink, people aren’t.  (1 Peter 5: 5-6)

Thanks for listening.