We always called it the fish pond.
It’s a man-made pond hand dug by my great-grandfather out of a low, wet place on his farm. He thought everybody deserved a place to fish and wanted everybody to have access to a fishing place.
When my family and I moved to the farm ten years ago, we tried fishing in the pond. All we could catch were little sunfishes. Nothing to write home about. Even less to cook for supper.
Our interest in the pond waned as other pursuits like soccer and cross country commanded our attention.
Until last year, that is.
A friend of our family asked to have her wedding at the pond. I was incredulous. Get married at the fish pond? Why in the world?
The bride had reasons and a vision.
She had met her fiancé at the pond.
Her fiancé had proposed at the pond. I heard the ring was attached to a cane pole.
She wanted to complete the story with a wedding at the pond.
Move ahead one year to June, 2014.
The pond looked beautiful—mowed, trimmed, weed wacked, and sprayed to a flora and fauna perfection. (Thank you to a special friend for her expertise in this area.) Sunflower balls hung from the old oak tree shading the wedding tent. Bouquets of sunflowers adorned the fence surrounding the pond.
The wedding was magical.
The bride arrived in a Cinderella carriage and was whisked away to the reception venue on her uncle’s helicopter.
The bride had a vision that I couldn’t see until I looked with fresh eyes. My image of the pond was made new. I had a new appreciation for something that had become common to me.
Fresh eyes are what I’ll need next month when I study the Life of Moses for the third time. I’ll need to read carefully and expect to be surprised by truths that I may not have seen before or maybe haven’t considered in all lights.
I learned a lesson from the wedding at the pond: keep my eyes open to new sights, especially in old places. I’ll be looking for new sights with Moses.
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