I visit family in Louisiana at least once a year. My sister Jo fell in love with Frank,  a sailor on leave who was visiting a friend in California. Jo married this southern boy when she was only 19 years old. She and Frank had four boys.

These boys bleed gulf water and love their fisherman’s paradise state. So when Frank, the eldest of the boys, now a grown man, invited me on a fishing venture, I knew this would be an unforgettable experience. This story is about one day in late June, 2003.

Frank

Frank owns his own fishing boat, and though that speaks volumes of his love of the sport, to him it is a passion.

The night before our adventure, Frank called me to inform me that he would pick me up at 4:00 a.m. The day before, my mind was running wild with thoughts of having to use the bathroom while on a small boat. What if I had to use the bathroom in the middle of nowhere?  I tossed and turned all night, worrying about this bathroom issue. It was not until 6:30 a.m. that Frank finally pulled up.

Jo reminded me that this was going to be an all-day ordeal and asked me if I was sure I wanted to do this. I did have second thoughts, but only because of the bathroom situation. In spite of this reservation,  I reluctantly said yes. My other nephew, Nick, was going with us as well, and they invited Resio, a friend of theirs.

Lesson One

I had not yet buckled my seatbelt when Frank spoke in a very solemn voice, “Now, look Aunt Lynda, one thing you have to remember: that hook can take your eye out so you must  be very careful when casting.” It was 7:00 a.m. by the time we were gassing up the boat. Frank yelled that this was the last call for the public bathrooms.

We hit the highway, back into the country of lush green.  As we pulled into Port Sulfur, I realized that I needed to use the facility again.”Go in the bushes, Aunt Lynda,”  yelled Frank. “What?” There was no way I was going to do that!  So I carefully watched as the guys were busy getting ready to launch the boat, and found that the truck would be my shield. “I can do this,” I told myself. In the meantime Resio and Nick did the unthinkable and the boat broke away from them. They were both in  panic mode and were able to get the boat docked in a quick motion.

Lesson Two

As the wind hit our faces and the boat bounced off the water, we were headed to the middle of nowhere, surrounded by the natural beauty of the gulf,  sprinkled with patches of marsh. Our captain, Frank, knew exactly where to go, so as we settled in, he instructed me on how to cast my line into the salty water. At first I could not figure how to hold the fishing line, and so many times my casting went short distances from the boat. Frank patiently reviewed the process over and over, each time saying, “This is the last time, Aunt Lynda.”

We were using shrimp for bait, so Frank told us to cut the shrimp into three pieces. This grossed me out because this disgusting yellow substance oozed out and got embedded  deep into my fingernails. Many times when Frank was not looking, I used the entire shrimp. When Frank busted me, he told me that I would never catch anything with that much bait.

Meanwhile Resio, the self-proclaimed fisherman, was using whole shrimp the entire time! Resio was either fixing his fishing line or messing with the tackle box. At no time did he displayed any fishing etiquette, though he shared whopper fishing stories which I did not believe. Frank once tripped on his pole and Nick lost the “big one” because his line became entangled with Resio’s. From my recollection of this trip, Resio was in the thick of everyone’s business. Resio claimed that he almost caught a shark, but unjustifiably blamed me because his line was tangled with mine. I never connected with Resio because he was a big talker and a know-it-all.

Along with all these mishaps, we were being eaten alive by flies that seemed to have sharp teeth. Frank told me that they were sand flies.

Nick 

In the meantime Nick caught the most fish.  His quiet demeanor calmed the fish as if he had hypnotized the redfish into the boat. Then there was Resio, who loudly caught a stingray and almost flipped the boat doing it.  Frank yelled out, “Man, be careful of that tail! It will  really sting you!”  Both Resio and Nick were scared of the smiley fish, and Frank had to free the creature. I prayed that the fish would not die.

Frank announced that we would go to a new area. Nick, Frank and I sat next to each other. We were like human canned sardines, so even the biggest bump from the boat could not move us, as we were butt puzzles. We caught at least three dozen hard heads; I caught three but these fish are not edible. Once Frank caught a really big hard head and could not free it, so he mercilessly beat it against the boat. Nick, too murdered a hard head. I prayed that the fish would be healed of their hook wounds.

The Octopus

On the last part of the trip, I was anxious because I was the only one on the boat who had not caught a fish. Even Resio had caught a sizable trout. By now I was desperate and prayed out loud. As I opened my eyes I noticed a sea creature close to the boat and it had many arms. Frank said that it was an octopus and that I shouldn’t cast my line near it. I was intrigued with its spiny extensions, but it looked more like a giant tarantula than an octopus. Nevertheless I watched its every move.

I finally decided to catch a fish when I came to the realization that Nick was having all the fortune, because he had the best spot, the best pole and the best excuse. From the time we got onto the boat, Nick had to use the bathroom, but his brother Frank showed no mercy and never pulled the boat over. Nick refused to relieve himself  because I was on the boat, so, because of  his suffering, God granted him favor. By this time Nick was too uncomfortable to fish. I took his spot, along with his pole, but had to cast to the other side because of that damned octopus scaring all the trout.

I could clearly see the difference, as my line made the sound of a real fisherman’s as it cut through the thick humid air. It seemed to reach the ends of the sea, but it was not to be; still no fish. “No more bait!” Frank announced, as it was time to pack it up.

Fish and Wildlife Patrol

The Fish and Wildlife Patrol boats were docked as we pulled in. Again Frank schooled me on what not to say. “Remember, Aunt Lynda, you and Resio do not have fishing licenses, so don’t talk to them.” Really? I talk to abandoned cats and I was not going to miss this opportunity to find out if they needed Jesus in their lives.  So while the guys were hooking the boat to the truck, I made small talk with the officers. One asked me what we had caught, and I wanted to tell them about all the hard heads that were wounded, but I held my tongue. I asked them what their jobs entailed and they said that they were there to make sure that the fish that were caught were the right size. I added that we measured all the fish we caught. Then I shared with them about the octopus, only to find out that there are no octopuses  in the gulf. I looked over at Nick, and he smirkingly told me it was seaweed.

Fishers Of Men

On the ride home I thought of Jesus’ analogy and how He used the parable of fishing to train his disciples. Simon, Andrew, James and John were ordinary men who fished for their daily bread. But when they met Jesus their lives were completely transformed. They left everything they ever knew to follow HIm. With every action, every step they took, they were being trained to do God’s work. They had already developed the art of fishing. The disciples needed nets, looked for the perfect spot, and waited patiently to have a successful catch. In my experience I, too, had to learn how to be equipped with all the fishing gear.

All fishermen know that by being patient and quiet, they catch the reward.

“And Jesus said unto them, Follow me, and I will make you fishers of men.” Mark 1:17