a true angler

My dear husband recently let me read a sermon he wrote for a seminary class. His introduction was depicting his very first fly-fishing experience from a day trip with his best friends a couple of weeks ago. I can't even describe the range of emotions I encountered while reading his well written words. I I thought I would do something a little out of the ordinary and share his words here with you. Enjoy! 

At the base of this bare mountain is a river that runs wild. It's equally as beautiful as the mountain it run by. 

        It was at the base of Looking Glass Rock that I first stepped into a cool mountain stream to try my hand at fly-fishing. I was wearing my buddy’s borrowed waders and rod and didn’t have a clue as to what I was doing. I had decided to take up fly fishing because it seemed the most relaxing of all mountain activities. Sure, hiking and camping were fun, but there’s an allure to fly-fishing that has always held sway over me. The way anglers can cast a line back and forth so effortlessly seemed to be a portal to a different world of understanding the mountains and its eco-system.

Before I had stepped into the stream, I had resolved to do nothing but simply enjoy the experience of standing in waders and boots and let the cold stream pass over my frigid–yet dry!–feet. In fact, I had no intentions of catching a fish. In actuality, I didn’t even want to catch one. How would I grab a writhing fish out of water? How would I pull the hook out of its mouth? Because I had no answer to these questions (and because I was too embarassed to ask), I quietly resolved to stand in the river and not catch a single fish, but to look the part as best as I could.

Of course, by the end of the day my technique improved and my buddy’s advice became more clear as I attempted different things. And then, it happened. Much to our surprise, dozens of brown trout began swimming visibly in front of us. Several started poking their heads out of the water. Someone upstream must have dropped pellets in the water. Instead of blindly casting my fly into water, I was casting towards fish that I could actually see! All of the sudden, the nonsense about not catching a fish left my mind. I became single-minded, focused, intense, and full of passion. Amidst the flurry of fish scurrying about at my feet, I caught one. But only briefly. I didn’t set the hook right, so when I pulled it out of the water, it flopped back into the stream.

Practicing his cast near our house. This was the same spot he caught his first fish! And I must say, I've never seen a more good looking man!!!

I was not prepared for the sense of devastation that welled within me. I felt the impulse to cry. To make matters worse, we had to leave the creek shortly after. Although I hadn’t actually caught a fish, I had come painfully close.  As we drove down the country highway back home, I could feel my silly desire to simply look the part flying out of the open windows of the truck. I was leaving the base of Looking Glass Rock a changed man. I now had a single-minded desire that consumed me. My newfound passion was for one thing, and for one thing only: catching fish.

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Since then, my sweet boy has caught TWO fish! This is his first fishy... tears filled my eyes when I saw his picture! For so long, I have wanted a hobby for Dustin that he could enjoy for the rest of his life. I think he's found it! 

With love, 

Dustin's proud wife! 

Shortly after he became a true angler!