Here's another fun post from my good friend Denise!
This week I took the boys fishing.
I don’t like fish. I don’t like worms. I don’t like bugs. I can’t eat fish, it makes me sick. I do not take fish off the hook. But, when the weather is nice and I am sure to get some sun for a tan, I do take the boys fishing.
First though, I had to stop to get a fishing license. I have faithfully bought a fishing license for two years in a row now. This is big time stuff. When I walk in, they must think I am slightly crazy. Four boys, me and fishing. Yah, I would find us crazy too! But the local hardware knows us well and the gun and bait shop we now stop at somewhat regularly is always extra patient with all my questions and helps us out a lot.
So, we were standing in line and our youngest had to give us a play by play of the other couple with a young boy in line next to us. “He has ice cream.”
“I know. I can see it.”
“I like ice cream.”
“I know you do.”
“Can I have some ice cream?”
“Me too!” comes from the other three at a totally not in-sync chorus, each one trying to be louder than the other to make sure I hear that they want ice cream.
“No, we are not getting ice cream.” Why do they do that? Why do stores put tiny freezers full of ice cream truck treats right where you have to get fishing licenses on the first official day of summer vacation. But I was holding firm, we had just gotten our delivery from the Schwan’s man – yum!
“He’s eating his ice cream.”
“I know, I can see him.”
“Moma, I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“Moma, can I have ice cream?”
“NO!” and then it was our turn to be helped so I could get my fishing license and get out of the store. Phew! We made the purchase (they always ask me if I want a restricted one or not. I just tell them I am just taking the boys fishing, nothing more. The older boys then tell me it would be cool to go on a boat to go fishing, in say, Lake Michigan. And that trout do live in Michigan, just in case I didn’t know. As if I would ever take all four boys on a chartered fishing boat!)
We are ready to leave and S3 decides he should inform the employees and everyone else in the hardware store that we are going fishing. “Really?” the store manager asks “Well, you have fun.”
“We will!” S3 says confidently. “Cuz I KNOW EVERYTHING!”
Yup, he really said that. The manager chuckled and said “Well, that is good to know. Try not to forget it all by the time you get big like me.”
“I won’t,” S3 vowed, “well, bye!”
And we were off to our favorite deep woods fishing spot. We caught six fish, seen three snakes swim near us, watched a blue heron take off from the bushes right next to us, untangled two fishing poles that were so knotted up we had to cut them apart, rolled pants of boys who thought they would get better bites if they actually stood in the water and I got some sun, while reading a magazine on the dock when everyone had run out of worms and were trying some ‘new fancy bait’ they were sure would get them the biggest bass in the whole lake. We came home with four little fish, and S3 cried the whole way home, because he hadn’t caught a thing.
S3, who knew it all, who told us how to fish, who stood there extremely quietly sure he would trick the fish in, never caught a thing. I felt bad for him. It was surely not for lack of trying.
I was thinking of that later in the evening. I’m not much unlike my four year old. For instance, I don’t like to let my kids know I can’t do something they know how to do…S1 knows how to run our roto-tiller and I don’t have a clue but I won’t ask him. I know everything cuz I am a mom, right?
I think you can see where I am going with this.
It’s impossible to know everything. But I do know I am guilty of thinking I know everything in my Bible so why bother reading it? I mean, I have heard these stories since I was born, literally. And then something will happen in life, or a simple conversation, and I’ll realize how shockingly ignorant I am and how prideful I really had been.
Once again, God gave me a little insight into my own heart from the mouth of my gifts from Him.