Morning Flames

After my shower and shave I took my time down the stairs to an empty kitchen. Rachel had just left for work minutes earlier. I put some water in a pot and ignited a hot blue flame on the stove which licked the metal bottom of the pot. In my groggy morning state, I stared at the burning flame and the bubbles in the water which were beginning to form.

I am in a small tent pitched on cold crushed pine needles at the base of a granite bowl suspended in the high Sierra Nevada mountains. Above, the sky is flame-blue, streaked with clouds and bouncing off the  cold crystal lake. Little circles grow as trout snack on little bugs. The sun is not yet visible; its halo ignites the jagged sawtoothed peaks to the east. I'm pulling on my pants in the tent, which ruffles and bends as my brother steps out and pulls a fleece over his head. I see my dad sitting in jeans on an old pine log, folded at the waist over his knees as he works on something between his boots with his big hands. It's a little butane burner he props up and balances with one hand and with the other strikes a match. The hot flame roars and spits and is soon
covered by a cold aluminum pot filled with icy lake water. I am standing above it now, feeling the heat on my ankles and steam on my face as the little bubbles begin to form.

I looked back to the kitchen table. There rested a Bible, open to the book of John, whose familiar pages reminded me of my favorite story of Jesus.

It is an early morning after the Resurrection and some of Jesus' disciples are back to fishing. From the boat, they spot a familiar figure on the shore who calls to them in a familiar voice. "It's the Lord!" exclaims John, his wide smile parting his dark beard. With a crash, Peter plunges into the dark, cold water, sending waves and wakes as he swims to shore. His friends follow close behind in the boat, jump off, and land their bare feet in the sand. A few of them swing into the shallows to heave their heavy nets up onto the beach, full of flopping wet fish. "Bring some of that fish over and come have breakfast!" It really is Jesus, cooking fish over a small burning fire as the sun is rising over the lake. They are together in the cool morning, inhaling steaming mouthfuls of fish, their brimming laughs and stories echoing across the still lake.