So, what’s your passion? What do you pursue? To what extremes will you go to pursue it?
One of ours is college football, and for that reason we were on the road Saturday going to Waco for another ballgame. We left early and that was good because we didn’t get very far before we hit a wall of traffic on I-635 in Mesquite. More impatient than worried about being late, we used a driving app to find the quickest route around the clog.
Soon we were snaking through southeast Dallas County, following a slow-moving dump truck that had either taken the same advice or maybe was going to work and this was his regular route. The narrow two-lane road wound past houses on rural acreages, auto mechanics and junk yards, and wooded land with thick underbrush that had never been coaxed into development of any kind. Living in the well-organized and established northeast corner of the county, I often forget there are places like this not 20 minutes away.
Anyway, we were moving steadily but slowly until we came to a short line of traffic stopped to wait for the next turn. As we sat still, we looked to our right and saw we were on a narrow concrete bridge across a creek, and standing just outside our window was a man with his back to us holding a large bass by the mouth. The fish was green and shiny and looked to be at least 12 inches long. Surprised by what we saw, LeAnn lowered her window, and she said, “Wow, that’s a beauty!” The man turned, held the fish up shoulder high, and beamed with a huge smile. It was clear to see he was having a great day.
As traffic began moving forward, we looked to the right one more time and noticed a couple of other fishermen and saw the water down below was dead calm and bright green with blooming algae. I’m no fisherman so I didn’t know you could still catch fish in water like that, but apparently life is still teeming under that layer of neon green. (Back home the next day, I looked at an online map and found we had crossed Prairie Creek, a tributary of the Trinity River, at the intersection of Teagarden and Dowdy Ferry Road.)
So, there we had been in our car, in a line of traffic on a bridge, working hard in pursuit of one of our passions, and here was this man with a fishing pole, on the same bridge, pursuing his. My guess is the fisherman would not have been happy sitting in the heat at a loud, crowded football game, and we wouldn’t have enjoyed sitting in the heat at a stagnate stream waiting for fish to bite. But, for one brief moment, we were on that bridge together on the same journey but with different destinations.
There’s no end to the variety of what turns people on, gets their blood flowing, brings them joy, ignites their imagination. I’d rather hike through the mountains in a cold rain than walk at a climate-controlled mall, but to each his own. We’re all wired differently by our creator; we don’t necessarily share the same passions, and that’s OK.
However, when we find people who share our passions, it’s a special thing. While the man at the creek caught his fish, our team lost the game Saturday, but our passion is for more than the win column. It’s also for the camaraderie of the “family” we share the experience with. On Saturday that included friends Richard and Charlie, who met us there in the seats and fought the good fight with us. We all got home late that night, and we all were at Wilshire the next morning. That’s another passion we share.