This is a letter I just received from my son Bryan who is  in Iraq,    please read it.... the second half is a flyfishing story .... amazing .... he can think so beautiful a thought in such a desperate place......

 

 

Hello,

 

It has been a few weeks since my last letter and I hope this finds all of you busy amidst school work, work, or in between.  Your prayers are constant reminders of just how good God is. 

 

We are back to October, and I'm trying to remember what it feels like.  Living in Texas and now Iraq for the past few makes crisp weather with dead leaves seem something of a dream.  

 

We are still in the hundreds during the day although they are the low hundreds... and at night - past few at least - we have seen mid 80s which is a welcome change.  It hasn't rained for awhile yet (a light sprinkle this morning) so the dust still owns us.  Getting used to it covering your skin, your belongings, your everything... is still difficult.

 

The dirt and grime is different here - you might laugh.. but I think of the dirt and grime back home as clean now.  Over here.. it feels ..unclean...as if it is tainted by something.  It smells odd as well.. again it might sound funny but I'd rather stick my hand in a bucket of mud from back home then a bucket of sand over here.  ..... A thin dust is created by the sand.  "Moon Dust" caused by the track vehicles crushing sand into a fine powder -  with each step a puff of dust rises around your feet and legs.

 

 

We are starting to prepare our equipment and personnel for the return home in a few months.  As a Company XO my job will be kicked into high gear for the movement and redeployment.  I will keep you posted on the big things that happen.

 

I was thnking yesterday about the Fall season -  growing up I always enjoyed it the most - festivals, birthdays, harvests, school starting, basketball starting, a new year ...a fresh start.., crisp air, football Fridays, Saturdays, and Sundays.. .. hay mazes, colorful leaves, and hot chocolate..   bonfires and baggy clothes.  - .. I have skinny legs. 

 

Anyway.. it also reminded me of how lucky I am.... and the moments when I feel closest to God.  Most of the time those emotions and feelings occur when I'm surrounded by family and friends at holiday get togethers... but more frequently those emotions occur when I am completely alone and God whispers..and I feel surrounded by Him...covered in His love ...surrounded by his angels .....and wrapped in His arms. 

 

In circumstances such as these my mind reverts to those times and in particular one evening fishing on the Perre Marquette River.

 

I'm stepping into a river that seems so familiar .... every bend.... hole..and eddy...every small rapid and ripple ... sand bars...and rocks...logs... and trees.  This particular whole...bend...tree..marks my favorite spot on the river... Immediately I begin searching for signs of a big brown - (trout).  At this point in the evening with my brother around the bend and my Dad up above the water temperature begins to creep lower...chillin your legs to the bone, but it's hardly noticeable.. it's a knot in the back of your mind the focus is below the surface ..a flash of silver..white..or a moving shadow with the slow sway of a fishes tail rhythmically matching a metronome. The fly line is getting harder to see and the fly even harder as the sun begins to set over the break in the trees. What used to be bright yellow gold is now pink purple and fading into black mist.  The fly passes under a low hanging branch amidst a stiff current and rising air bubbles.  It passes in between the undercut bank and the slow moving water caused by the two big rocks. Waiting..breathing seems to slow to a stop..your heart matches the pace. Waiting... for the slightest disturbance in the waters surface where your fly should be.. only the sound of the water rushing by is in your senses and the feel of the rod against your palm.. .--was it a good drift--- you wait until it's passed the last possible chance of enticing a would be unexpecting trout and pull it out of the water only to try again. I change flys....glancing down to see a small rainbow - (trout) swimming between my legs.. stationary for the moment ....haven't moved for so long that he thinks your part of the stream and he is using you to take a break - rest in the current for a moment before he continues up stream.  The wind picks up and moves the branch shaking the long leaves of an over hanging willow down the bend. ..  My brother and I used to swing on those leaves like Tarzan as a kid in my back yard before the willow we had snapped in a rain storm.  Looking past the branch into the trees is a doe standing in the grass with a fawn behind her.  The wind blows the sent of a man into her nose and she stares right at you before she bounds out of sight into the darkening pine woods.  Behind her - the fawn freezes..it's tail swishes ..curious....then he leaps in toe.  One step up and out further into the stream... the water chills my thighs and reminds me it's cooler outside with the sun down. I plant my foot against a large rock in the current, and I dig out something light.. something white and..something that will float on the surface so I can see it.  A king fisher flys over low.....startling...   and lands nearby perched on a log out crop upstream ..he sings.  Hopefully.. we can catch one before he does.  ... A few false casts down stream to get the distance..  A side arm cast to swing it below the branch and upstream enough to get the drift we need.  ...The flash....deep below the surface....silver ..long... big... my heart stops..my breath catches.. I bend lower to the surface to cut down on the glare from the shadows.. the fly is floating naturally...no swing...perfect.. .. I don't expect a splash...the big ones only put a snout on it...barely move for it most of the time.  2 more seconds...and the fly will pass... untouched.. in this moment everything is frozen... you've seen it ..so many times.  you've felt it.  smelled it....dreamt it... chills ...your eyes widen..time stopped for you.. everything around you stands still ...the wind knows what's about to happen...  Your frozen in perfection. 

 

.. .. A snout.. pull up high on the rod.. pull out the slack.....hold your breath ..feel the weight...hook her.   The lines taught.... you got it.. .. she pulls the slack straight out and she's on the reel headed straight for a log to break you off... Pull her up stream and to the middle.  She flys.. from the safety of the river... to the sky.  she flys...pulling you down stream pulling the line from the reel and making the all familiar buzz... she'll be gone if you don't chase her... around the bend ..keep the rod high...slack out......through the deep the parts.  What seems like a an hour is only minutes.....your arm is numb.. she's tired.  She's dead weight and you know your hooks worn a whole. She can slip off any moment.  You keep the rod high and tight ....pull her out.. head up.. she's big.... Dad's there now with a net and a steady hand...  he tails her and scoops her up... it's over.  she's in your hands and she's beautiful. Dad gets the camera...but we don't need it.....  God was watching.

 

In His Grip.

 

Bryan