We had a plan. An elder reminded us that it was a tentative one. Wake early, head for the Learmonth Jetty, and fish through high tide. The plan made sense. The wiser ones among us stressed the word tentative. The plebes, including me, missed the word entirely. We had a plan! Tomorrow was going to be a busy day.
The remnants of a low-pressure weather system came through during night. The wind blew and the sky dumped buckets! The tin roof danced and made music in response to nature’s rhythms that woke most. Even the young one had doubts by the time dawn arrived. The initial maybes turned into an awareness of the wisdom of the old ones. This was not a time to be outside. Rest, relaxation, and calm were the priorities of the morning.
We could have pushed it. I am sure the graciousness of our hosts would have shaped some kind of compromise. As I look back at the fronts that moved through later in the morning, I am also sure that we would have been miserable. Yet again, a model of sensitivity played out in a way I need to remember.
An old writer illustrated a situation where some had views that others did not. “We need to be sensitive to the fact that we’re not all at the same level of understanding in this. Some of you have spent your entire lives eating “idol meat,” and are sure that there’s something bad in the meat that then becomes something bad inside of you. An imagination and conscience shaped under those conditions isn’t going to change overnight.” (1 Corinthians 8.7b)
It was in the knowledge that we had differing views, that we expressed trust in the other. Early in the morning, the skies looked like they were going to clear. The experienced among us knew better. In contrast to early decisions, the naïve among us trusted the elders. It was a wise call for more than the obvious reason of staying dry. Communities gain strength as they look out for the individual.
