Hooked

By Sherrie Murphree

Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above yourselves, not looking to your own interests but each of you to the interests of the others.

~Philippians 2:3-4

I'm a city gal who didn't fish growing up. My country-boy husband forgot to ask if I liked fishing before we wed. For Mel's sake, it would have been good if I liked fishing, but for years, any way I could I wormed out of it.

One day in a public testimony at church, a lady mentioned that speaking was not her comfort zone but she was trying it anyway. God seemed to dangle His lure before me to wiggle out of my comfort zone. I needed to try fishing.

The three significant people in Mel's life who had fished with him — his dad, his brother, and our son — had died within a three-year span, so I had been praying for a new fishing partner for Mel. Now I felt a nudge from God to be that partner myself.

One Saturday, we went shopping at Sears and dropped by the sporting goods department. A salesman approached and said, "Good afternoon. We're having a drawing for fishing equipment. Be sure to register the next aisle over."

"You go ahead and look around, Mel. I'll sign up for both of us," I volunteered.

Back home, we listened to our answering machine. "This message is for a Mrs. Murphree. You've won a combo rod and reel in our Sears drawing. We'll hold it for you."

At once, we returned to claim the prize. "A light Shakespeare combo. That's just what you need, Sherrie," Mel encouraged. But with raised eyebrows, I recalled Shakespeare only through literature courses. We thanked Sears and left.

At Walmart the next week, I decided impulsively to buy a fishing license. But even waiting in line five minutes seemed too long. How could I be patient enough for fishing?

One mild September morning, I agreed to go to Moss Creek Lake to fish. The excursion was tolerable, although only a turtle pulled on my line. Time passed quickly as I worked on my casting and reeling skills. For Mel's sake, I tried hard. When I asked the difference between lures and bait, he proved to be as good a teacher as a fisherman. Ominous clouds got me off the hook a couple of hours early as rain began.

Three weeks later, we went fishing again. Perfect day. From the dock I worked on my angler skills once more. When I did well, Mel praised, "Hey, that was a good one!" When my line got tangled, he sympathized. "That's okay. I'll just cut it." I had several catfish bites this time.

Eventually, the day arrived when I was compelled to admit something to Mel. "You know, I'm actually enjoying this fishing some." He let out a chuckle.

Time would tell if fishing would become a new comfort zone for me. I was learning to feel the thrill of a fish tugging on the end of my line. I was responding to God's pull on my heart, the one that had started in church that long ago day.

"Reel me in, Lord," I whispered.

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