Not so long ago, weather permitting, I would have already been up for hours preparing to make a run in my boat, Loco Motion, to Cay Sal in the Bahamas. I would be highly anticipating a fun day of deep sea fishing on the water with my friends. Several of my buddies would begin arriving long before daylight and we would be chattering like magpies as we walked down my dock to my 39 foot Sea Vee to load all the rods and reels, ice, drinks, lunches, bait, and assorted gear for a glorious day on the water.
I’d crank those big IPS Volvo twin engine diesels up and soon we’d ease out of the dock and into the channel heading out to blue water. I’d smell that saltwater and feel the ocean breeze, and sense the vibration as the big boat maneuvered through the channel. By the time we got outside of the harbor, the sun would barely be turning the horizon reddish orange and I’d open her up heading south with a smile as big as Texas and Alaska combined on my mug.
We’d ride for about two hours crossing the Gulf Stream and finally the last tiny little island of the Bahamas, (just 28 miles from Cuba), would appear on the horizon and I’d ease the throttles back down and we’d put the lines out. Up the ladder and into the tower I’d go and we’d begin slowly trolling just outside the reef in 300-1000 feet of water. It wouldn’t be long until line would start screaming out of one, two, three and even four of the big golden Tiagra reels. My crew would go nuts scrambling to get fighting belts on and voices would ring out, “FISH ON! – FISH ON!”.
Man I miss those days!
But instead of going fishing this morning I’m going down for surgery. I had a biopsy of a lesion on my neck a couple of weeks ago and sure enough it turned out to be a malignant skin cancer and the dermatologist is going to cut, burn, and/or gouge out the rest of it this morning. It has become a routine with me to go under the knife, undergo various freezing treatments, chemo creams, lasers, and other stuff battling those pesky skin cancers that have developed through a lifetime of exposure to the sun. It kind of reminds me of removing barnacles from a boat; if you leave them, then serious damage will result.
I don’t live in gorgeous Islamorada in the Florida Keys anymore, because of the sun. My doctor down there told me that if I wanted to live that I needed to get out of there. More exposure to the sun is the last thing I need. In order to do so I had to give up one of the things that I love most in life, deep sea fishing.
I was telling a friend of mine that it’s all I can do, especially this time of year, not to go back to the Keys and the blue water that I love.
I mean we need some quality in our lives too, eh? We have to die from something, right? We might as well die doing something we love, don’t you think? Why are things that are so harmful to us – so darn fun?
A buddy of mine is on a diet that I would describe as being horrible. He cannot eat anything that tastes good, because it either contains sugar or something that will make his cancer grow. He’s only supposed to eat certain vegetables, salads, and if he’s a good boy, his bonus for the week is a couple of ounces of chicken.
He glumly munches away on lettuce and celery and glares at me as I gorge on apple cobbler and ice cream. I’m sure the thought crosses his mind to dump that rabbit food on the floor, (or maybe on my head), and go and get some real food and gorge on it until he has to loosen his belt instead of tighten it another notch.
I mean we need some quality in our lives too, eh? We have to die from something, right? We might as well die doing something we love, don’t you think? Why are things that are so harmful to us so darn fun?
Hmmm . . . I used to love to drink wine and it put me in a very good mood and I entertained my friends with my antics that might have been silly at times, but I enjoyed it immensely.
I thought drinking was bad for my Christian witness, plus I discovered that I have Hepatitis C and my doctor told me that if I continued drinking it would likely kill me sooner rather than later. So-o-o-o I quit drinking wine, but I can tell you that I surely miss it.
I mean we need some quality in our lives too, eh? We have to die from something, right? We might as well die doing something we love, don’t you think? Why are things that are so harmful to us so darn fun?
I told my wife that I’m going to buy a Harley motorcycle soon. She rolled her eyes and reminded me that the last time I got on a motorcycle I was very nearly killed when a dog ran out in front of me while I was doing 120 miles an hour.
Geez! I remember that incident well. I saw the dog begin to cross the street in front of me and I turned my head to the side, anticipating hitting it, and dying in a crash, but as I watched out of the corner of my eye at the very last second the dog suddenly turned back just in time to avoid a collision.
I shot past him like a rocket. Whew! Maybe I shouldn’t buy one after all, or should I?
I mean we need some quality in our lives too, eh? We have to die from something, right? We might as well die doing something we love, don’t you think? Why are things that are so harmful to us so darn fun?
I was talking to a friend the other day and she told me her grandfather who is nearly 90 years old has started smoking pot. She said he enjoys his weed; it reduces his aches and pains, and gives him something to look forward to in his otherwise mundane life. Golden age – Golden weed . . . LOL
I mean we need some quality in our lives too, eh? We have to die from something, right? We might as well die doing something we love, don’t you think? Why are things that are so harmful to us so darn fun?
And so it goes. Today I don’t have any answers to the foregoing questions. I’m like Paul when he wrote in: Romans 7:16: I don’t really understand myself, for I want to do what is right, but I don’t do it. Instead, I do what I hate.
In fact I’m the last person that should be trying to formulate answers because too many times I succumb to the temptations of this life and suffer the consequences. I remind myself of a wild untamed stallion kicking my stall and rearing up and risking breaking my legs. My refusal to be broken could result in me being put down, but for some odd reason that doesn’t seem to register with me. It’s like I am the original “Wild thing” and cannot be tamed.
I do know that in heaven we will not be faced with the temptations of this life anymore and we won’t have to worry about death defying antics, or sin either because none of it will exist. Just the warm love of Jesus Christ and we will be perfected in His image. All sin, all temptation will be gone.
Ahhh . . .
As for the law, I don’t question it and I know it’s good. I just cannot seem to always use it correctly . . . Sigh . . .
1 Tim. 1:8
We know that the law is good when used correctly.