OK.
I know that the best time to go fishing is when you can. Period.
And yesterday I had a window of opportunity arise that looked like a
good one to salve the hunger to wet a line.
But the only way to describe what happened yesterday was … it was a bad
fishing day.
First off, it was still cold. Oh, the temperature was a balmy 73, but the
light wind was out of the north, and it still had some of that distinct bite to
it. I knew the Norther had blown in
because we enjoyed the cool the day before while doing yardwork. But the water seemed calm enough, so I gave
it a go anyway. Oh, I didn’t mention
that I was talking about wade fishing, did I?
The kind where you actually get in the water and wade out to the first
sandbar before casting. Now, the water
felt really nice. Still somewhat cool,
but not the icy grip like it was at the Easter sunrise service baptisms. But not ten minutes after I got in the water
and began casting, the wind decided to pick up.
That meant the waves responded in kind.
The water began more of a churning, and what was already dirty became
even worse.
Oh, I guess I did get one nibble. Two tiny legs of one shrimp were gone. The trauma didn’t even kill the shrimp,
though. I tried one “regular sized”
shrimp. He’s the one with the missing legs. I tried one of those super jumbo shrimp. Not a touch.
I even tried a small one to no avail.
It was just not a good day for fishing.
So within an hour after my arrival, I was headed back to shore,
empty-handed.
But all that was just what made it a bad
day for fishing. There’s a little bit
more. See, where I go wade fishing, I have
to make my way across some large granite boulders placed to help the seawall
protect the island. At the point where
the boulders end and the sand begins, there is often a drop-off, a hole, that
the current has formed in the sand. I know
it’s there, so when I arrive I use my fishing pole as a sounding device and
simply jump over it. I discovered
yesterday, however, that reversing the process isn’t quite as easy as it once
was. Oh, I found the hole easily enough. And I even distributed the weight of the bait
bucket, catch well, dip net, and pole effectively. I stretched across the chasm with no
difficulty. The problem came when I tried
to complete the step back up onto the rocks.
The old knee muscles just wouldn’t kick in and pull up the rest of
me. I made several attempts, and even
almost got there one time before completely losing my balance and falling
backwards into the water. I am certain
my struggles would have made a wonderful addition to any funny video TV
show. I finally managed to drag my now-drenched
from head to toe body back onto the rocks and back up to the truck. But the day wasn’t a complete loss, I guess. When I got home we cleaned and boiled up the
bait, added it to some gumbo, and called it a day … a bad fishing day.
Numbers
14:18 says, “The Lord is slow to anger, abounding in love
and forgiving sin and rebellion.”
Father, thank you for chance to go
fishing, even when the catch is … minimal.
Amen.
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