THE TRUE FISHERMAN
IT’S MORE THAN JUST “CATCHING A FISH” BY G R E G A . L A N E into the vast ocean, and at the beautiful pinks and It was the final day of our vacation at the beach purples of the early morning sky and gave thanks to in Sea Grove, Florida. Since we had to leave by 9 God for a beautiful day. I continued to cast my line a.m., I got up extra early to get in a couple hours of with great expectations for a trophy fish to strike. surf fishing before traveling home. It was still dark An hour had passed, and I hadn’t caught one outside, and the moon shone brightly on the water. fish. I looked to my right and left and saw that the The surf was relatively smooth, so it appeared to surf was now dotted with silhouettes of fishermen be perfect conditions for good fishing. I thought I all up and down the coastline, casting their lines into was going to be the first person on the beach, but I the deep. In me, there was a feeling of camaraderie was wrong. There was one other person already on with each of these men who had awakened early the beach sitting in a chair with fishing rod in hand. to try their hand at fishing. They were here to enjoy Had it not been for the brilliant moonlight I probably wouldn’t have noticed him. I have no idea how long a vacation with their families, just like me, but they had something in them that drove them to the beach he’d been sitting out there before I got there, but he was “in it for the long haul” because he had quite a earlier than all the other vacationers. That feeling you setup with him ... fishing rods, canopy, chairs, tackle get when you hook a big fish and pull him in to shore ... there’s nothing like it! box, etc. As time passed, I realized I had been fishing for I was excited to get to spend my final hours at the an hour and a half without a single hit on my line, beach surf fishing. With the aid of the bright moonlight, I cautiously waded out to knee-deep water and but it didn’t deter me or dishearten me in the least bit. I began to reflect on this passion within me, and cast my line out to deeper water. It was about 6 a.m. within the hearts of all fishermen, who ignore all the Slowly but surely, the moonlight began to fade discouragement they face when fishing for hours as the morning sun began to rise at 6:30 a.m. Thirty minutes had passed by and I hadn’t had a single without any luck. I remembered the first nibble on my line. I looked meeting Jesus had with back toward the beach the fishermen of Galilee and saw a couple other I realized I had been fishing for an hour and a fishermen on the shore who had been fishing half without a single hit on my line, but it didn’t getting ready to try their ALL NIGHT LONG without deter me or dishearten me in the least bit. luck as well. I looked back catching a single fish. I February/March 2022
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