Fishin'

As you've probably figured out by now, I lived in northern Minnesota for several years. Both of my girls were born there. It's beautiful country. Trees as far as the eye can see and the land of 10,000 lakes. And where there's a lake, there's fishing.

The first two years we lived there were spent in Bible college. It was a small, private college about 3 miles from town, and set on the bank of a beautiful lake surrounded by trees. There were no motorboats allowed on the school's property, but you could take a canoe or a rowboat out whenever you wanted to. It was on that peaceful lake, in a rowboat, where I learned to fish.

My dad had taken us fishing. We had fished from the shore when we were kids. It was mostly messing around and playing in the water. My grandmother had taken me fishing. Those were always fun times. She meant business when she was fishing. I enjoyed her company and I learned a lot - Grandma had an opinion about everything. But, I was pretty young and catching bullheads with Grandma just wasn't the same as sitting in a canoe or a rowboat in the evening when the lake was so still and so clear you could watch the northern pike skirt by you without flinching. I loved it!

I loved the lake. Sometimes I would just go out in the canoe and sit in a sunny cove in the afternoon and watch the fish swim around below me. If I sat there long enough, nature forgot I was there. The ducks and the loons would swim close. Life happened. Bald eagles would snag fish from the water. Ducks and loons would show their little ones how to hide in the wild rice patches. And every once in a while, a northern pike would rise to the surface and there'd be one less duckling in the group. It would catch me off-guard, but there was something grand in the scheme of it all.

After Bible college, we bought our first house in a small town which sat on a small lake. It sounds impressive to say we had a house on the lake... but almost every house in town was a "house on the lake." We had our own dock and eventually had a boat, which meant... more fishing. I liked to fish. I enjoyed spending time on the lake. And my father-in-law was an avid fisherman. He liked to visit... and fish. So naturally, when he came to visit on the weekends, I didn't think it was fair that only the men got to enjoy time on the lake, so I went fishing too. The only problem with that was "the rule."

My father-in-law had a fishing rule. You catch 'em, you clean 'em.

You all know I've never been one to back down from a challenge. And proving to a man that I can clean fish as well as he can sounds like the perfect way to prove a point - not only to men, but to myself. What others might consider a bragging right, I needed to fill in the "unwanted and invisible" gaps of my heart. I'm sure his rule had kept plenty of females off the boat in the past... but not this one. My one and only request was a lesson in how to clean fish. He obliged and I learned.

I always admired my father-in-law. He was a wise man. He has a retired pastor, but not very good at being retired. He filled in as an interim pastor when churches were in need. Which means he worked all the time. I use the word worked loosely. He volunteered mostly, out of the goodness of his heart. He was one of the most kindhearted people I've ever known. And the smartest.

He knew if people had to clean what the caught, they would be particular about what they kept and what they threw back. He knew they would think twice about keeping little ones or ones that were hard to clean. And when the fishing was good and the stringer was full, that was enough, we didn't need more than we could eat.

But there was something he didn't work into his plan. As the years went by and our girls got older, they wanted to fish also. But unlike some families, they grew up watching their mom clean fish... like that was the normal thing to do. So when they went fishing and got old enough to handle a knife, they asked Grandpa to teach them how to clean fish. My girls were cleaning fish by the time they were 10 years old.

Just like those ducklings in the wild rice patches, my girls were just doing what they saw their mom doing. It wasn't a freak act of nature. It wasn't even a miracle. It came naturally to them. They didn't know anything different. They didn't know other moms and girls DIDN'T clean fish.

But, just like those ducklings that learned how to hide in the wild rice patches, there's also the ones that didn't pay attention and ended up in the jaws of a big fish. And just like those sunny afternoons I sat there watching, without making a sound, how many of us stay silent as our kids and our loved ones fall prey to what the world considers "normal?"

There is nothing NORMAL about our world today. Society and culture changes daily. And the world would like us to think that all the chaos is part of something grand in the scheme of it all. But it's not. Chaos is just that... chaos. And evil is exactly what it has set out to be. The enemy keeps us busy, keeps us distracted, just long enough so we forget to pay attention - just long enough to wander far enough away from the wild rice patch.

I miss those calm, sunny days in the canoe. But I can't help but think if given the opportunity again, I would spend those hours in prayer for the ones I love dearly, asking God to protect them, instead of watching the fish swim below me or the loons diving for their dinner. I may not be able to control the chaos, but I can go to the One in control. And through Him, all things are possible.

Psalm 32:7 ESV

You are a hiding place for me; you preserve me from trouble; you surround me with shouts of deliverance.