It was a perfect summer day as we set out on our fishing trip. My husband had researched good spots to go and visited two bait and tackle shops to try to get the inside scoop.
Our 11-year-old loves fishing, and his big brother enjoys it, too. I was really hoping both boys would both catch something to make it a successful day.
The sun was sparkling on the water, and the terns were hovering overhead as our sons cast and recast their lines from the long fishing pier. We watched as people near us pulled in shimmering white fish—some to keep, some to toss back into the water. But our boys were catching nothing.
They’re old enough to know they need to be patient and just keep trying, but I could tell they were getting a little disappointed—especially as we were nearing the end of our time there and they had still caught nothing.
Then a man who was fishing nearby approached us.
“I really want to see them catch something,” he said. He put one of his worms on the end of each boy’s line, and they cast again. We thanked him and he went back to his fishing spot—but not long afterward, he was back by my younger son’s side. The man handed him his pole so he could reel in the fish on the other end—and our son gave him his pole to hold.
While our little boy was pulling the fish in, the man caught another fish at the same time using our son’s pole.
Two fishermen—a few generations apart—pulled two fish in together.
I don’t know anything about fishing, but it seemed as if this man had some kind of magic touch. Maybe he does. Or maybe he just has much more experience and better insight into bait or where to cast your line or something else I will never know about fishing.
But all that I saw in those interactions were his kindness. He wanted our sons to have a good fishing experience. He didn’t want them to walk off that pier without knowing the thrill of a tug on your line and the excitement of pulling in a wriggling fish.
As we packed up for the day and headed out—after another exciting catch by my son using the better bait—I thought of those little positive interactions we have with strangers. Before he approached us, I had hardly noticed this man, who was fishing with his wife and grandson, pulling in fish after fish after fish. But he noticed us. He cared enough to offer us some of his bait—and then let my son reel in one of his fish.
That’s the kind of love God shows us every day—seeing our hopes and wishes, stepping in to accompany us and support us, and wanting the best for us. Sometimes we’re so focused on trying to find our own solution that we don’t see His hand in the situation. But He is with us, waiting for the right moment to step in and offer a solution.
Next time he goes fishing, that fisherman probably won’t think of us. But I suspect on almost every future fishing trip, I will think of him and be grateful for the thoughtful kindness he extended to our family.
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