Determined Salmon

Determined Salmon

--by Martin McTeg   

    

      In all of nature, I don’t know of a more determined creature than the North Pacific salmon when it is returning to its place of birth.

     Born in fresh water, these particular salmon migrate to the ocean and return to their birthplace three or four years later to reproduce. That may sound simple enough, but in fact the journey, which can be as long as 2,000 miles (about 3,200 kilometers), is unfathomably difficult.

     No one knows for sure how the salmon know how to get where they’re going. Some researchers believe they are guided by a magnetic field, while others believe it is the salmon’s keen sense of smell or an imprint in their brain of the chemical makeup of the water at their birthplace. However they find their way to the exact spot where they were born, their Creator has equipped them for the task.

     When they reach the mouth of the river where they entered the ocean years before, their journey becomes even more difficult and perilous. It’s all against the current now. As the river narrows to a tributary and then to a stream, at times the salmon must force their way over rocks and through raging rapids.

     Then there are the bears that line up along the shallow, narrow, rock-filled streams to grab and eat as many salmon as they can, one after another. And bears aren’t the only predators. There is also a gauntlet of humans with nets and hooks. But the salmon will not be deterred as they struggle to clear every obstacle between them and their goal.

      I greatly admire the salmon’s do-or-die spirit, and I remember them when my own energy wanes or some goal seems to be slipping away. I remind myself that I too have been equipped by my Creator to take on life’s challenges.                    

      I too am destined to return to the birthplace of my spirit, Heaven, and my Creator has given me an inborn homing device to help get me there. It’s not like the salmon’s auto-pilot-like system in that I have to choose to switch it on, but my link with Him through prayer is just as sure and His guidance is just as clear and specific. He promises in the Bible, “Call to Me, and I will answer you, and show you great and mighty things, which you do not know,” and, “Your ears shall hear a word behind you, saying, ‘This is the way, walk in it.’”

     I also have to do my part. I have to keep swimming and fight the current, even when it would be so much easier to turn around and float downstream. But as I keep going in the right direction, that voice gets stronger. “Don’t stop! You’re almost there. You’re going to make it. You’re doing great!” As long as I listen to and obey that voice, my inspiration and strength are renewed. Like the determined salmon, I’m going to keep going until I reach my destination!

NON VIOLENCE PARENTING

Dr. Arun Gandhi  founder of M.K. Gandhi Institute for Non -Violence, in His Lecture at University of Puerto Rico, shared the following story as an example of "Non Violence Parenting" 

"I was 16 years old and living with my parents at the institute
my grandfather had founded 18 miles outside of Durban, South
Africa, in the middle of the sugar plantations. We were deep
in the country and had no neighbours, so my two sisters and I
would always look forward to going to town to visit friends
or go to the movies.

One day, my father asked me to drive him to town for an
all-day conference, and I jumped at the chance. Since I
was going to town, my mother gave me a list of groceries
she needed and, since I had all day in town, my father ask
me to take care of several pending chores, such as getting
the car serviced. When I dropped my father off that morning,
he said, ' I will meet you here at 5:00 p.m., and we will go
home together.
After hurriedly completing my chores, I went straight to
the nearest movie theatre. I got so engrossed in a John
Wayne double-feature that I forgot the time. It was 5:30
before I remembered. By the time I ran to the garage and got
the car and hurried to where my father was waiting for me,
it was almost 6:00.

He anxiously asked me, ' Why were you late? ‘I was so
ashamed of telling him I was watching a John Wayne western
movie that I said, ' The car wasn't ready, so I had
to wait, not realizing that he had already called the
garage. When he caught me in the lie, he said: '
There’s something wrong in the way I brought you up that
didn’t’ give you the confidence to tell me the truth. In
order to figure out where I went wrong with you, I'm
going to walk home 18 miles and think about it. '

So, dressed in his suit and dress shoes, he began to walk
home in the dark on mostly unpaved, unlit roads. I
couldn't leave him, so for five-and-a-half hours I drove
behind him, watching my father go through this agony for a
 stupid lie that I uttered. I decided then and there that I
was never going to lie again. 

I often think about that episode and wonder, if he had
punished me the way we punish our children, whether I would
have learned a lesson at all. I don't think so. I would
have suffered the punishment and gone on doing the same
thing. But this single non-violent action was so powerful
that it is still as if it happened yesterday. 
"That is the power of non-violence."

One Hour That Can Change Your Life…

This is Referred Material

(Condensed from CATHOLIC DIGEST by Barbara Bartocci)

 

One Hour That Can Change Your Life…

It was my birthday, that morning in February 1978, and I felt harried as I grabbed my briefcase and headed for a business breakfast. Life had been a good to me overall. My small advertising agency was thriving. Husband and children were well. Yet something seemed to be missing – something that didn't even a have a name. I felt it only as a small emptiness inside.

At the restaurant I joined Don Campbell, a tall, lantern-jawed man of 60-odd years. He was a successful marketing consultant with an unusual empathy for people. I was always struck by his calm, peaceful manner.

Over poached eggs we discussed an advertising project and then, business behind us, I mentioned my birthday and confessed to my nagging feeling of emptiness.
"Want to fill it?" Don asked.
"Sure."
"Start your day with an hour of prayer."
"I don't have time for that!" I gasped.

"Exactly what I said twenty years ago. I was president of a Chicago ad agency and running every which way just to keep up. I couldn't find time for it. I had the sinking feeling that my life was getting out of control. Then a friend told me I was going about things backward.

'You're trying to fit God into your life,' he said. 'Five minutes here, ten minutes there.
You need to fit your life around God, and you do that with a commitment.
An hour a day – now that's commitment.'

The idea is to take a chunk of time big enough to mean something to you – and then, give that chunk to God."

Don's eyes twinkled. "I thought my friend was off his rocker.
To find an extra hour for God, I'd have to get up an hour earlier.
I'd lose sleep and ruin my health." The twinkle turned into a grin.
"But I haven't been sick in twenty years."
Twenty years!

I left the restaurant in turmoil. An hour of prayer? Preposterous!
Yet I couldn't get Don's idea out of my mind.

Saying nothing to our three teenagers or to my husband, Bill, I set my alarm for 5 am. We live in the Midwest and oh, it's cold and dark at 5 am in February.  I wanted to curl back under the blanket, but I forced myself to get up.

The house wrapped around me, dark and gloomy. I tiptoed to the living room, ignoring Burt, our Labrador retriever, and settled on the couch. It was peculiar being alone with God. No church rituals. Just me. And God. For an hour.

I glanced at my watch and cleared my throat. "Well, God, here I am. Now what?" I would like to report that God replied immediately, but there was only quiet. As I watched the first tinges of sunrise I tried to pray, but thought instead of my son Andy and the fight we'd had the day before. I thought about a client whose business had hit a rough spot. I thought of inconsequential things.

Yet gradually my erratic thoughts slowed. My breathing slowed, too, until I sensed stillness within me. I grew aware of small sounds – the refrigerator hum, Burt's tail slapping the floor, a frozen branch brushing a window.

Then I felt the warm presence of love. I know no other way to describe it. The air, the very place in which I sat, seemed to change, as the ambience of a house will change when someone you love is home.

I had been sitting for 50 minutes, but only then did I really begin to pray.
And I discovered I wasn't praying with my usual hurried words or my list of "gimmes."
All my life I'd been told God loves me.  On that cold February morning I felt his love, and the immensity of it was so overwhelming that I sat in quiet thanksgiving for nearly 15 minutes.

Then Andy's alarm went off and Burt gave a small woof. The ordinary day had begun. But all through the rest of that day, I felt warmed by the memory of that love.

The next day morning the house seemed even darker and colder than before. But, shivering, I did get up. One more day, I thought. And the next day, one more day. Day by day, six years passed.

There have been plenty of crises in those years: difficulty with one of our teenagers, marital turbulence, a big financial loss. Through every crisis, I have found a quietness of soul in that hour with God. It gives me time to put things in perspective, to find God in every circumstance. Once I find him, there seems to be no problem that cannot be resolved.

Some mornings, I am quickly filled with the wonder and glory of God. But other mornings, I feel nothing. That's when I remember something else Don Campbell said: "There will be times when your mind just won't go into God's sanctuary. That's when you spend your hour in God's waiting room. 

Still, you're there, and God appreciates your struggle to stay there. What's important is the commitment."

Because of it, my life is better. Starting my day with an hour of prayer has filled the empty space – to overflowing. 

Do you have an empty space within you? You can try it too!!

Condensed from CATHOLIC DIGEST, 

 
Barbara Bartocci