Al Kyte's Life Take-Aways

       

Some years ago, a friend prevailed on me to join him for a fishing trip to Eagle Lake, located in the remote northeastern corner of California and known for big rainbow trout best fished for in the coldest months of winter.   As we made plans for our trip there, we phoned ahead to book a motel room in a small lakeside community and jotted down the directions to the three eating spots located thereabouts.

On arriving, we had no problem checking in and immediately went out to get dinner.  At the first spot on our list, we were greeted with a sign on the door that informed us that they had closed for the season the month before.  It was now December.

Relieved to find the second spot on our list open, we found three people inside at the bar—a  bartender and two customers, a man and a woman.  The bartender told us that they did not serve food that late in the year either, but that we could get dinner at a spot in a small community 10 miles farther up the lake.  His directions coincided with those of the third and last place on our dinner list.  As we drove those 10 miles, snow started to fall.

We found the restaurant, but the note on the door let us know that they were open only from 9 am to 5 pm, and it was now after 6.  The lights were already out, the people gone.  As we returned those ten miles to the bar and the only people we had even seen, the snow was coming down steadily.  We rejoined those three and let them know our problem, that we were hungry and without food or any place to obtain it.  Initially they offered no ideas for us.  As we continued talking with them, we learned that the woman was a fishing guide, and the man with her was in that country to work on repairing a damaged wharf.

We knew that the only town of any size in that isolated part of the state was Susanville, over 30 miles away on a narrow, winding road that was becoming more difficult to drive every minute.  We spoke of driving there for dinner, but our three new acquaintances advised us not to attempt it under such dangerous conditions.  Yet my companion was the most skilled all-weather driver I had known, so we were leaning toward going anyway.  The woman then said something that startled us, “We’re not going to let you go!”  Then she added, “Wait here,” and helped her friend off his barstool and out the door.  The two returned a few minutes later carrying a frozen lasagna dinner they had found in his R.V.  The bartender then offered to heat it up for us in his microwave and we gratefully enjoyed a warm, tasty dinner without having to risk our lives.  Our benefactors would not hear of taking any payment for the dinner.

So that night we were reminded how to care for people in need.  I believe God’s love was coming through those three people, who much like the good Samaritan, backed up their compassion for strangers with helpful action.  Throughout my life, I have often marveled at the people placed in my path to learn from—and hopefully to touch somehow in return.