The pond is filling up again with water from the stream after years of being a mud hole. When a careless developer upstream scraped the top off a hill without adequate erosion control measures, rains sent red clay mud straight down the stream filling up our twelve foot deep pond. We have lived with the results of his carelessness for years watching the mud sprout weeds and puddles grow mosquitoes. The mediated settlement money enabled us to rebuild the pond in time for the summer.
The fishing chapel is surrounded by water and a little waterfall provides the prelude for Sunday worships. There is a rock walkway over the stream and we will have a bench to sit on in the shade near the water. A shallow swimming hole carved out above the waterfall provides a resting place to cool off for dogs and children. Little minnows are already making their home there waiting to slide over the rocks down into the bigger pond. When you walk by the pond now, you hear the splish splash of frogs diving in to their newly remodeled home. In time, soon we hope, the old blue crane will find his way back to us and the snapping turtle will return from wandering up and down the road to settle in once more. Children (and non-children) will be able to stand on the fishing deck to throw their line out to catch fish again. Fishing in my daddy’s pond was always a great adventure for my children. Now our grandchildren can learn patience (they never bite all the time) and courage ( try putting a cricket or worm on a hook) fishing with Pop or Grandma. I help bait hooks but do not fish...
But the most essential part of the pond is unseen, tucked away a little bit upstream in the berry patch. We dug a deeper hole, a silt pond, and made it accessible with the tractor. A wall of gravel and rip rap serve as a filter for the water as it makes its way to the pond. Water going out is much cleaner than water coming into the hole. When it fills up with mud, we can clean it out with the scoop on the front of the tractor. Now we have some protection from other development as well as the natural forces that bring dirt downstream.
Watching the silt pond last night, I got to wondering where the silt ponds are for my life. The water of life is a year round stream, sometimes full of trash and mud, sometimes clear and bubbling. Surely I can build places to catch the debris before I am filled up with a muddy mess, lost and mired in the muck. Writing is one of my silt ponds. I take time to think and reflect, read and pray. Usually nothing profound, no Damascus Road experiences happen but the rushing stream of my life has some time to settle and clear a little. Feeding the animals, the donkeys and horses and cows and cats and dogs (I don’t do chickens... those belong to Michael), helps remind me I am only a part of the greater Creation, not its center. Working in hay affirms the truth that life is difficult and easy, sweaty and refreshing, hard work with a payday, and gives me renewed appreciation for my grandparents whose living depended upon their farm work. Praying, conversation with God while paying attention to the water of life, is another filter for the muddiness of life in this imperfect world.
The old hymn we used to sing at Pinetta Baptist Church gives me a lovely prayer for my silt pond soul. “Purer in heart, O God, help me to be; May I devote my life wholly to Thee: Watch Thou my wayward feet, guide me with counsel sweet; Purer in heart, help me to be.” As the muddy waters of life wash through my soul, be my gravel wall, Lord. Help me to become purer, clearer, sweeter in heart, mind and body. I love you and long to be your loving child. “Teach me to do Thy will most lovingly” as I wade in the muddy waters. Thank you for this most amazing gift of life and life here on the farm. I am grateful. Amen.
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