without ink

I love fishing.  Venturing north, the thought of catching the big one and the accompanying thrill is enough to drive countless people to insanity….fishing on an icy lake in the snow in my case.  But after the fingers thaw out, I am itching to get back on the water. What draws me out of the warmth and shelter of the cabin in hopes of redeeming a day on the lake must be the mystery and the potential that each day of fishing holds. My attempt to conquer and coax what has its own agenda to momentarily meet mine always proves more difficult than I initially surmise. Regardless, I do my part in putting everything in place to catch one…and then I get a first class lesson in patience and humility.  

Being out on the lake is a great place to wait. It is so breathtaking- the shore encroaches the forest, the loons belt out a beautiful melody, and now and then a bear will amble out of the wilderness to try its own luck at catching a snack. Every once in awhile the wind settles and the sun pokes its head out from behind the clouds, and I am able to catch glimpse of the fish beneath the water. As I observe them burrow in the mud and spook at the motion of the boat as they dart away, I feel like I am peering into a foreign world, one in which life and constant motion, even though unseen, abound. I wildly throw my line into the water, repeatedly and with fervor hoping to catch sight of a trophy fish chasing my minnow. But, more often than not, the minutes pass, the water becomes hazy again, and the aquatic life disappears from view. Hours later when I haven’t even had a bite, I find myself discouraged as I am weary of casting countless lines into the water without a single response. The vision I once received of the vitality lying just below the surface has escaped me, and I swear instead that there are no fish in the entire lake. Then, unexpectedly, there comes a hit on the end of my line, so clear and strong, there is no doubt what is on the other end. When my desire to catch dinner meets with the identical desire of my rival, the tug I feel on my line is enough to send me into orbit with excitement. Reeling the fish into the boat with a huge smile on my face, I am delighted knowing that one of the many requests I have cast into a pool of endless depth has been answered. For the moment my work is encouraged, and all of my unanswered attempts are summed up in the catch, making all the efforts worthwhile.

I guess it’s a good thing I like this pastime because I seem to be constantly fishing for answers in the depth of the character of the one my soul loves. Taking whatever wishes, feelings, and other random musings I can conjure up in the haphazard tackle box of my deepest desires, I throw them all overboard in what seems at times like a foolish act. And even as I sit in silence waiting for that fateful response, I sometimes begin to wonder the same thing. But as a fish jumps in the waters nearby, I recall that there is abundance of life beyond what I can see. He is constantly stirring the waters, receiving my requests, and waiting for the perfect time to respond with a catch that never fails to take my breath away.