Memories from the Bayou

I am sitting at my desk rather early this morning. The robust smell of strong chicory coffee fills the air, and my mind wanders to thoughts of the bayou country in Louisiana. Thoughts of early morning fishing trips on D'arbonne, Claiborne, and Black Bayou, the misty fog slowly lifting to reveal the splendor of the South's most diverse assortment of flora and Fawnia. The sight of 'gators slowly submerging themselves as they meandered through the stained water. The sounds of a hundred different birds waking to greet a new day in paradise. I truly love the bayou conutry.

I think about the thrill that fills every fiber of my being as I would feel the tug of a monster bass on the end of my line, or the camaraderie of good friends laughing as I fall in the bayou trying to free a lure from the tangles of a Cypress stump. Yes, the aroma of the coffee brewing easily transports me from this windowless office in the Midwest to the glorious open outdoors I so adore.

It is interesting to me how the sense of smell can trigger such remembrances, and in turn the inevitable emotional response. In this case it is a response of satisfied pleasure. A pleasure that was found during some of my most trying days. I have to force myself to remember the difficulties of that time in my life, many of which, perhaps the vast majority of which, were of my own making. Those memories seem to pale into insignificance when compared to the pure joy I would find in God's creation. I believe that pleasure was the means by which God was reminding me He was still there waiting for me regardless of how far and swiftly I was running away from Him. Somethings are just too big to run away from.

As I study the Old Testament, I find that God has a sense of smell also. Many times throughout the book of Leviticus, the smoke from the offerings is referred to as 'a sweet smelling savor'. In at least one other passage, God tells the children of Israel that 'their offerings are a stench in my nostrils'.

I wonder if the sense of smell excites God's memory of us? If it does, I pray that memory be a joyful memory of a son who, hard as he tried to destroy what God had given him, in the end found his way back to the only true joy in his life, Abba, Daddy.

What are the memories you are making with 'Abba' today?

Jim