---Wallowing is through, continue on---
So part of work today had me sitting by the creek for ten minutes, thinking. I do wish this was a job requirement for any and all gainful employment; much good could come from it.
Years ago I dated a fellow kayaker who made me a little boater out of leftover outfitting foam. He carved the little man into an exact replica of one of the hottest boats at the time, and gave him weight to help him paddle better. I instantly loved the new toy. Weeks later we took what was to be a great expedition to run Passage Creek, a steep class III-IV technical run. We loaded the boats, our camping gear, our paddling gear and headed out to Elizabeth Furnace, only to discover that Passage had already peaked and the flow was once again down to a steady crawl. There was no paddling to be had.
So what we did was pull out our little kayaking buddies and played in the creek with them the rest of the weekend. Standing shin deep, cheering and laughing at the toys as they ran what we couldn't. It was such simple fun. Vicarious paddling at 3 inches tall. Now whenever I see a little creek I think about that trip and that toy and how he'd run it and I smile.
Too many days make me wish I could do more than vicarious paddling, but sitting by that creek today I was thankful that I simply am. God has granted me a deep love for water and I must be restful in the fact that there is a purpose for that love; that it wasn't for a fleeting moment.
That little boater is wrapped gently in a small box next to my bed. He's moved with me everywhere I've gone. Sometimes I'll pull him out and play with him. I don't know if I'll ever be able to see him go.
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