This is called "My Place to Be With Him". It's a very personal essay about the pond in my back yard at my parent's house in Texas, the place where I grew up. It's somewhat reflective of my choice of the pond background here on this blog as well.
“But thou, when thou prayest, enter into they closet, and when thou hast shut thy door pray to thy Father which is in secret…” (Matt. 6:6).
Most of us have our places where we go to be one on one with our Father in Heaven. I believe that this is one of the messages of this scripture: to find such a place. Surprisingly, it is indeed a closet for many of us. For me, it is a place in my backyard, just by the pond.
Picture a backyard completely fenced in that spans about an acre. The Texan St. Augustine grass that grows thick and coarse on the ground never goes yellow, and the atmosphere is always thick with humidity. A few sparse trees provide the blessed shade that we would often turn to in the hot summer months. There is a garage, a smaller shed, and pool, but these aren’t the important things. There is also a pond about 100 feet long and twenty or so feet wide that covers the Northern side of the enclosure. It’s not very deep, but it teems with life from the plentiful Red-Gill perch to the few snapping turtles that have made enough frequent appearances at the surface so as to be named by my nephews and nieces. The water in the pond is always still, and is a dark, almost metallic color because of the muddy bottom. The eastern half of the shore (if ponds truly have “shores”) is entirely cement, as if to present to our family the border where man meets nature. This cement slab, which is actually an extension from the deck of the pool area, is covered in splotches of dirt from yard work over a few decades, and burn marks can be seen here and there from the various 4th of July celebrations.
Over the years, little has changed about this picture that I so inadequately painted. However, as stable as this location was, I was always changing. I often came to this place, however, because of the calm serenity of the atmosphere there. In a family of eight children, two parents, and multiple animals, I was never wanting for company. Instead, I was often wanting for privacy—for a place to escape—and this area provided just that.
My earliest memory was one innocent summer time—I must have been about ten years old—when the rains had just fallen and the water in the pond was low. It was so low, in fact, that my little sister and I were able to sit on a log that jutted out from the bottom, right in the middle of the pond, and watch the plethora of American toads go about their boisterous lives. South Texas is much more wonderful when it is overcast, and the clouds cover the wide and high sky and the over-bearing sun. It was such a day, and a light drizzle still fell on the umbrella we shared. It was the first rains we had all summer, and there was a sort of celebratory feel about it, with us and the frogs. I was just about to go in and have a dental appointment or something, but for that moment we could sit there and just enjoy being part of this great biosphere. My little sister and I didn’t get along too well back then, but at this moment, we were in harmony, not saying much but enjoying each other’s company for once. I didn’t fully realize what was happening then.
Throughout my teenage years, I would often retire to the pond when life was being unfair, and it was unfair most of the time. I can’t point to a specific instance that I visited the pond because there were so many, and my teenage years were so long ago. Still, I can feel the warmth of the sun-baked cement that had, ironically, this strange cooling effect on my hot temper. I didn’t realize fully realize why it had that effect then.
In my adult life, I remember vividly one day in my backyard in the summer of 2007. I had just come back from California after two years of service to my Lord. My feelings were a tumultuous mess, from the excitement of being back with family and friends again, to the relief of all this autonomy I had back in my life, to the shame I felt at that relief, and to the realization that I was no longer being prayed for by a million plus people worldwide. I had to clear my head of all this, and after having arrived in late and being released the night before, it was only 6:30 a.m. and I found myself back at the pond in my backyard. I sat in a hammock that hung from a nearby tree and drank it all in, coming to terms with this new chapter in my life. I was a different person then, and though I no longer wore “the badge” the Lord was still very much part of my life. Yet still, I didn’t fully realize it then.
Less than a year passed and a found myself there again. It was early January, and I was supposed to be in Provo. My house bustled with activity, and with a pervading sober mood that I wanted to escape for a while. I now sat on a small bench that was put there for my nephews and nieces to sit on when they wanted to fish. The water was perfectly still, and the brown leaves of winter were still falling from the trees and dappled the surface of the water that offered a perfect reflection of myself as I looked down on it from that cement slab. All was calm, and all was well. I knew the next few days would be hard as we reflected on the life of my sister who had been abruptly taken in a car accident just a few days before. I was in one of those deeply philosophical moods where I began pondering if there truly was such a thing as an “end” in the eternities. My reflection that stared back at me from the surface of the dark waters offered consolation I could little find elsewhere. I finally realized at that moment that when I retired to this place, I was never alone. With that realization, that cement slab by the pond became a sacred place to me.
