Some of my fondest boyhood memories involve my uncle, Granville Norris. “Granny,” as we kids called him, was a bachelor until the ripe old age of 83. It was one of my great privileges to perform his wedding!
When Grandpa and Grandma Norris moved near us in the Rio Grande valley, Granny and Yogi (my dad’s other brother), continued to live up in the mountains near Pie Town, NM. Granny’s work was often slow in the cold winters and he would slip down to visit all of us. One Christmas vacation, he took me fishing early every morning, teaching me some of the art of catching trout. We would build a campfire on the edge of the little lake, bait our hooks, then warm up at the fire as we watched our poles. Granny loved to fish and I loved to go with him.
When I was in high school, unusual moisture patterns high in the Rocky Mountains caused a sudden decision to route all the water from the main channel of the Rio Grande over into a large irrigation canal near us. Rather than tapering off the flow, it was quickly shut down, leaving huge pools of water in the river bed. Many of those deep pools contained fish. One day, Granny and I went over to the river to see what we could catch. At this point, it was okay to catch them with nets or by hand…they would die anyway.
As we made our way down the riverbed, stopping and checking every possible fish hole, I remember seeing a snake out sunning on a sand bar. It was a not-so-subtle reminder that there were other things besides fish out there. It was August, the weather was quite warm and we checked as many holes as we could before it was time to make our way home.
We found a place to work through the salt cedar on the bank of the river and climb up to the levee road where Granny’s truck was parked. I took the lead and zig-zagged up the embankment, when suddenly Granny gave me a bone-jolting shove and shouted, “Get up there!"
I loved and trusted my uncle. Granny had been a friend, a teacher, someone I could laugh with and confide in. But, he had NEVER been so harsh before. As I hustled up the embankment, he told me, “You just stepped over a big rattlesnake hidden under a log!"
Granny and I did our best to destroy that snake. It may not be scientifically correct, but my motto is still, “The only good snake is a dead shake!” After it was over, I relived the memory over and over. As years have gone by, I can still hear Granny’s voice in my memory. It never seems so near as that day when he yelled, “Get up there!”
If you and I are to live FatihFit lives, we must develop a relationship with “The Trainer.” The ways our eternal Trainer communicates are not always kind and gentle. Neither are they always pushy or rough. In every situation, He has our best in mind…even if we don’t understand it at the time! I can’t wait to talk to you about it this weekend at Stone Ridge Church. Hope you can join us!