Here is a small excerpt from my book. Hope you enjoy it!
God Bless Love Kat
The Universe Provides
12 | P a g e
I've cast my net on the waters,
I won't grab or yank at the edge.
This time will be different,
I think, I will let it drift, float, or just sink.
I am patiently waiting on the surf's edge,
Warmed by the mid-day's shining sun,
Just watching as it sparkles and dances on each wave,
Yes, it is a strange way for me to behave.
For I usually twist and turn my big nets,
Fighting with them, the entire time I sent them adrift.
Forcing and making my sheer will
Determine the bountiful catch, they will fill.
I push and I pull
Until I ache throughout.
Not the smallest of pieces left out of the process
Of exhibiting such forced and determined excess.
But lately I’ve come to the conclusion
As I watch the tides roll in.
All of the energy and effort spent,
Did not seem to help a bit in the end.
I now put my future successes
In more capable and loving hands,
More able to carry any load, especially when deeper and wider,
Freeing me to feel much stronger, and even a bit wiser.
The universe with God's guidance
Has been filling the oceans, and turning the leaves,
Puffing the clouds, and feeding the creatures.
Why must I be the one, to teach all the teachers?
I'll carefully prepare and check my net;
When I'm done, I'll cast it without a care or regret.
I'll watch, and I'll pray as it drifts out to sea
Then I'll gratefully wait for what comes back to me.
The Fisherman's Plight
Once upon a time… there lived a solitary fisherman. It was a very hard life, made much harder by the
fisherman trying to control everything. He tried to control the rolling seas. He tried to control
the amount of the catch. He tried to control the amount of rain that fell. He tried to control the
outcome each and every time he forcefully flung out his nets. It took awhile for this seasoned and
weathered mariner to come to the realization that all his attempts to control what he could not
control were not yielding satisfactory results. This mattered none, however, because each day at the
break of dawn he would prepare his gear, his boat, but never his attitude. The sea was something to
be tamed by him, the fish were something he was entitled to, and the weather when he might concede
that this was something had to accept, he begrudgingly did but not every day. He got his strength
and stubborn determination as well as his need to command everything around him from his father. He
took on the day as if going into battle. His weapons were always drawn and ready to strike. He was
constantly dueling with the very things that were intended to give him the utmost comfort. The other
fisherman would end their day laughing and joking enjoying their lives. He never socialized much and
kept to himself. The taverns at night would be rowdy and boisterous filled to the rafters with the
town’s fishermen boasting or moaning about the day’s catch. These hardy men would be surrounded by
their wives and multitude of rambunctious children, eating, drinking and laughing the night away. As
far as a family was concerned, to our disillusioned captain, never felt the need to bother to create
one. He once loved a woman in his youth, but she made it perfectly clear the sea shore and the smell
of fish was not her cup of tea. Only once when he had gazed deep into her jet black hair and equally
dark eyes had he entertained the idea to quit and give up the only thing he knew. She was stunningly
beautiful with a personality to match. But in the end the draw of the sea won out. So our lonely
fisherman would never be found lifting a pit and making a toast to a better day. No, our feisty
fisherman-would always be too exhausted and spent to even crack a smile. He yanked his boat through
the hard unforgiving sand, with stinging waves crashing against him, and angrily dumped it on the
shore. For God only knew how many battles he’d fought that day and lost.
13 | P a g e
One evening in sheer exhaustion, he stayed on the beach near his boat and rested. He spied a
fisherman, a few yards down on the beach, whose face he did not know. The boat was brand new sitting
evenly in the sand, also new were the jet black nets. He watched this serene stranger as he moved so
carefree. He'd throw out his nets with a caress of gentle lover. They seemed to float softly and
stay way up easily suspended in the darkening sky above; they gracefully landed evenly and without
injury onto the crackled sand. Our mesmerized fisherman wondered to himself how that could be when
the wind was blowing and snapping so hard? He broke his stare from the action in front of him and
began to stand upright. As he lifted his head and rose slowly from his perch, he felt the pain in
his back and sharp pinches in his cold numbing hands. Focused on his discomfort, he no longer gave
the new fisherman another thought. He crawled to his home and his bed. He needed rest, didn't he, to
fight once again the next new day.
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I also highly recommend Guy Finley