Sometimes it is the mere doing of a thing that matters more than its expected result. Perhaps for duty, perhaps for pleasure, perhaps for process. And so, some men go fishing with no regard for catching, some women go shopping with no intent of buying. And sometimes, perhaps only once in a great while, a middle-aged couple might go looking for morel mushrooms in the dusk of the bluffs.

We parked in the gravel near the creek bed and hiked up to the ridge.

By the time we reached our little happy hunting grounds, it was too dark to see well enough for spotting the morels. That was why we brought flashlights with us. Within a couple of minutes, I was sure that either we were sharing this spot with other hunters or else whitetail deer also have a taste for fresh mushrooms. “Other hunters” either way, I guess.

There were numerous spots of bare earth showing amid the spread of leaves on the ground. In the hour of searching, I only found two keepers. In this case, “keepers” is synonymous with “visible.” I also found three “false morels” which don’t really look all that much like the edible variety, if you are used to looking at the edible variety: the stem is whiter, much longer in proportion to the cap, and the texture of the stem is totally different (full of tiny bumps and with a powdery feel).

It is only the cap itself that bears much resemblance at all to the true morel; it is of similar color and has a similar spongy texture. Apparently, that is enough to trick some people into eating these imitators. The results are not pleasant, I am told. The results are never pleasant when we allow ourselves to be deceived and enticed into consuming something other than that which our Maker intended for us. Which ought to make us very careful about where we go to church, what books we read and what talk shows we listen to.

Not everything that calls itself “Christian” bears the signs of genuine love, redeeming faith and sustaining hope.

H. Arnett
4/22/10