The Unseen Here and Now . . .

ARCHIVES

Stuart Revercomb

Stuart Revercomb is a marketing consultant and joyously married father of four children. He seems to remember someone once telling him he ought to be a writer. "The Unseen Here and Now" -- Thursdays.

E-MAIL

February 15, 2001

Fish of Grace : Our Fish

I love my Virginia mountains, but I must confess I am no where happier than when I am the first person up on a beautiful morning at the beach. It goes something like this :

Awaken to the concave call of the long rolling Atlantic waves.... check time - 6:15... roll gently out of bed... steal to kitchen... make coffee.... cut piece of yesterday's danish... slip out ocean side screen door and wince as the rusty spring reverberates above the hush of the waves...

Imagine youngest son going back to sleep in crib upstairs.

Tackle box, sand spike, pole, chair and coffee in hand descend the worn wooden steps to the sand below... remind yourself that there is no amount of money that can buy the feeling of cool morning sand slipping between your toes as your feet sink into its luxurious grasp... lean forward... press towards the waves...select the perfect spot...

Sand spike driven into sand - Pole in spike - Chair unfolded - Coffee to chair - Shirt off - Coffee back to top of tackle box . Lets see... oh, damn, back to house for bait cooler...

Return with semi- frozen shrimp... bait hook... time the incoming waves, and measuring the 3 ounce weight and tackle behind you, heartily heave the whole thing out to sea.

If you've timed everything just right it will disappear into the water right where the edge of the sun has just begun to rise.

Like I said, it's a glorious thing.

Such was the nature of the morning several years ago as I went through my routine and crept quietly out to the beach. The fishing had slowed down over the last couple of days, but since good fisherman never go fishing for the fish anyways, I heaved the rigging out over the waves and eased down into my low canvas beach chair. The sun's first rays searched a thin line of clouds over the water. A flight of Pelicans angled by on the breeze.

Life was exceedingly good.

It wasn't long before the screen door slammed and I was joined by my 2 oldest children. George and Gussie, (5 and 4 at the time), share the same passion for the beach as their mom and dad, but they weren't quite so understanding about the lack of fish - probably assuming , (sometimes correctly) that this was somehow Dad's fault. The lack of execution was clearly on George's mind as he greeted me this morning with an exasperated, "Still no fish?".

I tried to explain that often in the case of fishing there is a noticeable lack thereof, but they would have none of it. "We'll catch some today Dad... I just know it", said Gussie.

I slathered them with #30 sunscreen and sent them closer to the surf to work on the days first castle. I hadn't said anything because I didn't want to shake their optimism, but conditions weren't likely to improve anytime soon - the ocean remained calm and unchanged as it had been for days, and the tide was beginning to ebb.
I took in the increasing warmth of the sun and watched the children begin to dig by the water. The muddy drips of wet sand fell sloppily through their little fingers. It had been such a wonderful week. I felt incredibly thankful - for both them and these moments to share.

It was then that I had the sudden inkling to pray for a fish.

I am not one given to prayer for such things. In fact I am not one generally given to prayer outside of the "usual times" at all. But every now and then it seems I am given the whisper. Which is one of the truly remarkable things about praying - to do it right, somehow requires the help of the one to whom your praying.

In this case I had felt a nudge, so with what must have been the guidance of the Holy Spirit, I offered it simple and sweet, "If it be in accordance with your will lord and it suits the purpose of the day - send a fish for these children...", I hesitated, "and make it one we can eat... Amen".

That last line was really bold of me. We generally caught plenty of fish at the beach, but rarely were they of an edible size or variety. But what the heck, if I was going to ask the maker of the universe and all that was good for a fish, I might as well ask for the whole enchilada.

I opened my eyes and glanced at the tip of the rod. Not more than 3 seconds passed.

"Bip...bip...bip,bip...", the rod tip twitched, and then "ZESSSSSS... ZESSSSSSSSSSSS !"

We had a fish.

"FISH ON !", I yelled, loud enough for people to hear a quarter mile away. George and Gussie came flying up the beach wide eyed and full of wonder.

"What is it ?!, What is it?!" they asked in excitement.

"A fish!", I responded.

"But what kind?" one of them queried.

"I don't know", I replied, "Its still out there !" I pointed out over the ocean towards France.

"Gosh, Dad - how did you catch it?" George asked, as Gussie began to take her turn at the reel.

"Well, what do you mean, how did I catch it", I began to respond, "I put the bait on the hook and I... ", I hesitated a moment.

I had almost already forgotten.

"... and I prayed."

"And you prayed?"

"Yup..., I prayed."

"Wow", George said.

"Wow, is right", I replied.

When George finished his tour of duty on the reel we had one of the finest 21 inch "Taylor Blues" I have ever seen.

Gussie looked up with a beaming smile and said, "I knew you could do it Dad".

"Uh... I think God might have caught this one for us Gus". I really was at a loss for words. Blue Fish such as the one we caught normally swim in large schools and there wasn't a sign of activity up or down the coast.

Just a coincidence? Maybe so, but if you want my thoughts on where that goes click here.

(Just A Coincidence - Nov 16th 2000)

Coincidence or not I'll tell you one thing, walking up to that cottage with that fish and the children dancing around me drunk with glee was one of the genuinely happiest moments of my life. We immediately cleaned our beautiful prize, covered it in butter and broiled it in the old cottage stove. Would you believe me if I told you it was the best tasting fish I have ever had?

But I have not prayed for a fish since. I guess I'm saving it for another "dry well" moment. Or maybe I'm just afraid I won't get the same outcome. But perhaps it is because I know now more than ever, that not even prayer is needed for most "fish of Grace". Generally they just come, asked for or not and never given on merit.

Such is fishing I suppose - and such is the Grace that is given in the everyday of our lives, from an unimaginably loving and joyful God.

But if you happen to have the urge... I recommend you pray.

And don't be afraid to ask for the works.