The Swamp

I spent a lot of time outside when I was a child, climbing trees, exploring the woods and the marshy swampland across the street from our house in Columbia, South Carolina. I was captivated by tadpoles, water bugs, snakes, frogs, salamanders, cool-looking bugs, and huge carp that were easily caught when the creek that ran through the center of our swamp began to run low during the summer time.

A huge, smooth old log spanned the width of that creek and I often sat right in the middle of it, staring through the clear water to the sandy bottom below. I’d daydream and occasionally spot a turtle swimming by, a school of nervous minnows or a crawdad kicking up a cloud of sand as it backed its way into a new hiding place.

The trees that lined both banks of the creek were tall and the sunlight that shimmied its way through the dense layer of leaves danced in dapples across the glassy-smooth surface of the water. Between the birds singing, dragonflies buzzing by, frogs calling, and Woodpeckers tapping away, the swamp practically vibrated with an amazing symphony of living sounds. I was completely in my element and any concern I ever had disappeared as soon as I ducked into the dense undergrowth that concealed my sanctuary from our neighborhood.

I was lying on the old log one day, doing my usual daydreaming, when I saw something ripping through the water towards me with such speed that it left a huge “V” wake in its path. My heart was pounding and I was trying to get to my feet so I could run away when “it” suddenly disappeared under the water. Insane curiosity kept me on the log, and when “it” surfaced, “it” was facing me no more than four feet away. My emotions went from stark terror to amazed joy. I remember laughing out loud because my relief was so intense and I was so happy to be seeing my first otter in the wild.

The otter turned flips in front of me and swam up and down the creek and from side to side, climbing onto the bank and sliding back into the water like a torpedo on a mission. He was putting on a show and he kept looking my way to be sure I appreciated his antics. Then, as suddenly as he appeared, the otter was gone.

I exclaimed aloud, “God, you are so funny!” Until that moment I’d never known that God had a sense of humor. I was only nine years old but I knew God had sent the otter and that He got a kick out of delighting me…just like any father would.  

At that time in my life I had not been to church enough to have been taught anything about God, really. But I had always sensed Him in His creation. I saw the plants and the animals, the wind, the rain, the sun, the ocean and the surf – and I knew. I knew He existed and I knew He was GREAT and MIGHTY. I knew that He was in charge and He was in control. Somehow I knew He cared about me, and in that one special moment in the swamp we  shared an intimate moment and a good laugh on me.