There are places I have been – discovered on road trips, revealed during journeys of other kinds and places revisited many times because their beckoning – that I consider sacred because of a particular feeling they evoke.  The kind of places where I am overwhelmed by the awareness of the peace of God which passes all understanding.  Such is the stuff of a trout stream.

There are many facets involved in the lure of a trout stream.  The preparation for the trip sparks the anticipation – the decisions of where and when, gathering of the gear, the musings over weather forecasts and, of course, the trip itself.  Trout streams are not normally located (unless you are very fortunate) in one’s back yard.  The drive, especially as the destination nears, is fueled by eager expectation.

I arrive and WOW, there it is.  It might be a fairly wide expanse of water, rippled and rushed by a relentless current, or a narrow, meandering stream that flows so slowly I must study the water carefully to determine which way it is going.  Whatever.  As I am a complete novice at all this, getting into my gear requires patience, balance and the ability to be amused when my net (attached to the back of my vest via magnets and bungee cords) insists on being everywhere except where it belongs.  Trying to act as though I’ve done this hundreds of times, checking several times to be absolutely certain my keys are secured in my vest before locking up, I carefully walk away from my van, rather clumsy in my size 10 boots.  Streamside, I scout for likely trout habitat – a log, a partially submerged windfall or a bend in the stream where the current is not as strong, a deep pool downstream from a rapids or a small waterfall, a cozy cover created by an overhanging rock or cliff – so many possibilities!

As I step carefully into the stream, scanning for slippery spots, amking certain one boot is firmly planted before lifting the other (a tumble would not only be uncool, it would spook the fish and that would be that), the sense of freedom, the appreciation of the privilege to leave shore and be one with the water begins.  As the water deepens I feel its coolness through my waders.  Oh yeah, this is GREAT.  Decision time.  Wet or dry fly?  Are he trout rising?  hiding?  Hungry?  Sometimes I can see them, positioned facing upstream, waiting.  What will it take to interest them, to have them at least look at my offering?  The fluid repetition of the cast.  the muttering when the fly does not end up where intended and gets caught and tangled elsewhere.  It’s all part of the fly fishing experience.

Having a trout take my fly, get hooked, struggle as I carefully and slowly reel it in, the netting (a procedure that, at this point in my fly fishing career, remains a total mystery to me), the landing and, finally, the removal of the hook and gentle release back into the stream – a period when time stands still and leaves me momentarily suspended in a state of awe sufficient to fuel memories for a long, long time.  Cool as this may be, I can be perfectly content just wading in the water in a serene and peaceful place, anticipating what lies around the next end.  That, for me, is the essence of the lure of a trout stream.

Personally, I feel on of the most important duties of the volunteer is to be there to listen to the participant’s story if they decide to share it and help them at the retreat by making certain they are safe, secure and comfortable.  The retreat is a respite from their cancer journey and a time to be pampered and learn something new.

I want to commend Reeling & Healing Midwest for the wonderful volunteer staffers they bring to the retreats.  They are individuals who team together who’s interest in making sure the participant has a wonderful weekend and goes home worth memories of laughter, hugs, new friends, standing in the river and putting what they have learned to good use, and fellowship with participants and volunteers.  It is a life changing experience for everyone at each retreat.

I can’t wait to come back this summer!

Posted by a participant:  “People who pray for miracles usually don’t get miracles, but people who pray for courage, for strength to bear the unbearable, for the grace to remember what they left instead of what they have lost, very often find their prayers answered.  They discover that they have more strength, more courage than they ever knew themselves to have.  Where did they get it? I would like to think their prayers helped them find that strength.”  A quote by Harold Kushner.

With Reeling & Healing Midwest and everything in fishing I say Fish On!

It was our first day on the Au Sable.  I was on shore, still in my waders, taking a break and doing some photography.  As I watched pairs of fishermen in this incredibly scenic setting, I was struck by an emotion so powerful I was moved to tears.  Try as I might, I could not put a name to it – still can’t.  Perhaps one day it will come to me – perhaps not.  I think it’s way beyond descriptors I know.  I do know that the first time I entered my room I walked straight through the other door.  Before me was the river.  The first thought that came to my mind was “This IS the peace of God which passes all understanding”.

So, you take a group of women and an equal number of fly fishermen, team up, and start fishing.  The healing – well, that just sort of happens.  Two people in the stream, on fly fishing rod, a few instructions and the novice, guided by the experienced, is joyously engaged in the art of fly fishing.  Up and down the stream – pairs of people, both of them giving and receiving, and the healing begins.  Sitting on shore you can see it, you are moved by it – the privilege of observing healing occurring right before your eyes.  How cool is that?

During the preceding weeks, and all the way up until the first participant arrived, I was running scenario after scenario through my head. What do i do in case this happens, or this, or, god forbid, that?! I have taught dozens and dozens of people how to fly fish, often times in groups, but this was a whole new ballgame. As I said, I was intimidated.

So, how did it turn out you may be wondering? In short, it was a very special experience. The biggest part of it was not the fishing. It was being there. Yes, the fishing was fun and the chance to pass along knowledge and experiences to potential new devotees of a sport I love was enjoyable enough alone. The chance to spend some time on a lovely piece of trout water was also great. It all pales in comparison to the people. Those same people whom I spent hours and hours worrying about. How is that for irony?

Of course I did my share of carrying things from here to there, getting water, keeping track of equipment and other sorts of things. All the volunteers did. Those types of tasks are rewarding on their own. But it was being in the water with the participants – that’s where real special things happened. Women who normally have difficulty walking, relishing the river pushing against their legs. Or women who would cast their fly and actually see a trout rise – only to forget to set the hook because they turned to share a smile that a trout was “out there.” I watched their faces light up as the river worked its magic.

Out of the river, listening to them laugh and cry while talking with others, was…educational. Even I blushed a few times overhearing a few things (you know who you are).

I have done as much thinking about that time and those women since as before. Now I run things that happened over and over in my mind and it brings a smile. I am just as anxious as before. Anxious to do it again.

-DGM, Volunteer & River Guide

And there she is now, diagnosed with stage 4 breast cancer in her bones.

I met Elizabeth last fall at the Lance Armstrong Foundation���s Inaugural Summit on Cancer Survivorship. She was the last speaker to take the stage, share her story, share her inspiration, share her future goals, share how her life had changed for her family and herself, and more.

The portions of her speech I will never forget are those that were peppered with the letters written to her from individuals – cancer survivors and caregivers – whom she had never met. The anonymous writers had reached out to her to share simple thoughts and stories of their journey, acknowledge her courage and hope, to bolster her resolve and encourage her to fight, to share their prayers with her, and most importantly, to let her know that she wasn’t alone on her journey.

Those words produced flashbacks of the women I have met at our retreats – who have journeyed through their battle and survivorship – and not alone. Each of them, on their own terms, found purpose in sharing their stories, sharing their hope and their choices with those they met along the way – on and off the river. Their outreach and comfort prevail onward and are there whenever called forth.

I have lost friends who, having battled their cancer the first time and claiming a triumphant win, were later diagnosed with more havoc within their bodies. These men and women continued on their own way – some by beating the disease once again, some by making the best of their last days, some by subjecting themselves to clinical trials, some by knowing after a span of months or years, that it was time to stop taking the pain killers and the medication – that the disease had become extremely relentless and wasn’t going to loosen its hold – ever. Each has been a hero, an inspiration. Each has been courageous and beautiful. Each is similar to Elizabeth.

Who are we to question what their choices should be? With 3 out of 4 families affected by cancer in our nation, with the possibility of 1 out of 2 men contracting cancer in their lifetime, and 1 out of 3 women contracting it as well, don’t you think they should be making their own decisions and living their life on their own terms?

I applaud Elizabeth for sharing her story and undergoing the scrutiny from the public and media. At times our media seems to be as relentless as cancer. However, the good to come from her telling/sharing her story is that our community is becoming more aware of the havoc that cancer does cause, the good that is being done to prolong life and survivorship, and hopefully it will open new doors, understanding and research so we can rid the world of cancer altogether.

And as I applaud Elizabeth, I applaud all the survivors, caregivers and advocates I know, and have known, who share their stories, reach out to lend a hand, give support to the best of their abilities, and encourage hope and life on their own terms.

Fish On!

As I strolled into the arena, I noticed a friend with whom I hadn���t seen in quite some time, but always made an effort to ask about – whether his well-being or what he was currently involved in within the world of fly fishing. The past few years he had written a book, received a number of awards and was diligently fighting the big corporations who were buying up water rights throughout the Midwest. I was excited to see him and have the opportunity to catch-up and share our latest life stories. Little did I know how his life was changing. Read more…

I had decided to head into the main show arena and create the opportunity to connect with some of the vendors and guides who have supported us in the past years. Armed with business cards, I combed back my hair and made a run for it.

As I strolled into the arena, I noticed a friend with whom I hadn���t seen in quite some time, but always made an effort to ask about – whether his well-being or what he was currently involved in within the world of fly fishing. The past few years he had written a book, received a number of awards and was diligently fighting the big corporations who were buying up water rights throughout the Midwest. I was excited to see him and have the opportunity to catch-up and share our latest life stories.

Little did I know how his life was changing.

He was surrounded by others who had the same mission of connecting. I said, ���Come by my booth later���, gave him a hug and went on with my first mission. After completing my rounds and then stopping by to visit with the ���Bug Man���, Dean Hanson (awesome guy, fabulous exhibit and a cancer survivor) I made it back to the Reeling & Healing Midwest booth. Dave and Wally were proud to announce they had sold t-shirts, hats, and raffle tickets.

A little while later, my friend stopped by the booth. He���s 72 years old and was tired from all the activity at the show. I pulled up a chair for him and we started to share. I could tell by the look in his eyes that something was amiss. And as fast I recognized it, he blurted out, ���I have something to tell you. I haven���t told very many people. But my health is not well. I have lung cancer.��� I stood there numbed by his words, hopeful for him and focused to stay ���present��� and listen to his story.

He wasn���t the first person to share his cancer diagnosis with me, but hearing the words from him, having know him for a length of time, I couldn���t help but become very affected by the grim picture he was painting with his words. So affected, that I struggled with how to follow-up with him in the days after our meeting.

What follows are some of the words that I shared with him via email (he���s hard of hearing and we struggle with phone calls).

Here goes�Ķ

I���m sorry that you have cancer. I can���t state it any simpler than that – and there���s no sense in making it sound fluffy. Bottom line is that it sucks that you have it. It sucks what you���re going through. It just sucks. I thank you for sharing your story with me.

Please know that though I work with so many individuals who are diagnosed, battling, surviving and kicking cancer, the news always affects me differently – especially when it���s a person who has been in my life for a period of time. And especially someone like you who is such a beautiful, infectious and vital spirit. Dave and my prayers are with you and your family.

Last Fall, I was honored to be chosen by the Lance Armstrong Foundation to attend their First Inaugural Summit on Cancer Survivorship. I traveled to Austin and spent 3 days with Lance and a few hundred individuals who are trying to make the lives of cancer patients and survivors better. I encourage you to venture onto their website at www.livestrong.org. They provide all types of support and assistance.

Even if you���re not interested, please read the LAF Manifesto or watch the video. It inspires me to continue to help others in the fight against cancer. And I tell you, hanging with Lance was inspiring too. His goal is to find a cure and he���s hell-bent on achieving it.

I am first and foremost a teacher. I just happen to be one that uses fly fishing as a tool to help others reconnect their spirit back into the world around them with the help of God���s great and wonderful outdoors. In my 10 years of volunteering with the Reeling & Healing Midwest retreats, I have seen great healing, joy, love and hope culminate in everyone who attends. As you journey through your treatments, doctor visits, tests, bills, etc., don���t hesitate to make that time to take yourself back to the water – be it a lake, stream, river, pond. Knowing what I do know about you, I believe that���s where you find some peace. And though you may not believe it, being next to or in the water will help you heal – mental, emotionally and physically.

Just before dinner on the first day of a retreat, I coach everyone who attending for the first time on how to shout at the top of their lungs, ���FISH ON!��� I start out by saying that almost every fisherman I���ve fished with yells the call when they hook into a trout or fish. Then, I share that beyond the excited fisherman they will soon become in the river, is the spirit battling cancer. And just as Nike shouts the triumphant slogan of ���JUST DO IT���, and Lance Armstrong has filled the world with yellow and his fight song of ���LIVESTRONG���, Reeling & Healing Midwest has the deeper meaning of ���FISH ON!���

It is then that everyone gathers together and in unison, thunders out, ���FISH ON!��� And you can���t help but feel the power resonate from those words.

So my friend, keep ���FISHING ON!���

Fish On!