The Fisherman (Story)

Written a few years ago, I have not shared this story in a while.

~ESA

________________________________________________________________
The Fisherman

The dawn had barely kissed the eastern horizon, lightening the clouds with a peach blush when the fisherman reached the dock slip where his boat was tied. Piled in his arms was an old but well-maintained net that carried the scent of fish and saltwater within its webbing. The morning breeze was gentle but continuous; gulls and other seabirds called to one another as they rode the air currents rolling along the shore.

The lone fisherman lowered his bundle to the dock and climbed down into his small boat, transferring the net to its place at the bow. This was once a pleasurable weekend past-time, but lean times had come to his part of world. He lost his job a month ago and his wife was barely holding on to the part-time clerical job she had. While their meager savings helped keep a roof over their head, the days he could dedicate to fishing helped keep food on the table and -- on occasion -- bring in a little more money too.

Checking the fuel gauge on the tank, he pumped the knob on the line to bring gas up to the outboard motor clamped to the back of his small boat. Habitually, he checked around the propeller to make sure it was clear and yanked the line hard, starting the little motor humming.

While alone in his boat, he wasn't the only one on the docks this hour. Several other fishermen were also underway - seemingly more every day he went out; all bringing home smaller catches.

Pondering this, he maneuvered his small craft away from the docks and into the open water, where he cranked the motor to full power and felt the familiar vibrations run through his palm and up his arm.

He decided to try his favorite spot one last time, hoping to catch something. He got there early, cut the motor and cast his net into the sea. He poured himself a cup of still-hot coffee from his thermos and watched the waters beside his quiet boat.

Not a ripple, not a stir. The larger fishing vessels chugged past him at a respectable distance, heading out to deeper waters. What would be the catch today? he wondered.

After a while, he concluded that, once again, there would be no fish here today. He grunted with the effort of hauling in the dripping nets, arranging them as he drew them in, so he could recast them. He started his motor and turned the bow toward where the larger vessels had gone. I'll find some fish in the deeper waters, he told himself, not really convinced. The motor's hum became a roar as he opened the throttle fully and the little boat leapt ahead.

Once he reached the deeper water, he cut the motor and paused, waiting and watching to see if the fish would approach. While he waited, he choked down a sandwich, ignoring the tang of the salt that transferred from his hands to the bread.

First one, then another, soon a small school swam past and under his boat, as it rocked gently on the waves. Ah, this will do nicely, he thought.

He cast his net into the sea and waited, hoping to have some catch to take home to his family. But doubt still enshrouded his heart, casting the small hope in darkness.

Even though fish swam past his boat, when he hauled in the net for the second time, it was as before - empty. The fisherman cursed as he hauled the heavy wet net on board. I can't come home empty-handed again. Not again! He arranged the net for one final attempt and then sat in the stern to consider his next and final location carefully. The sun had already started its decent, and the gentle breeze had turned gusty bringing the scent of distant rain.

The fisherman cast his eyes heavenward and called out “Hey, up there! Can't you help a man out down here? I'm just trying to feed my family. That's all! Give a guy a break why don'tcha?”

Not waiting for an answer, he yanked the cord on the motor taking out some of his frustration. He checked the gauge on the tank and calculated where he was to go by what he needed to get back to shore, pushing further out. When he reached the last place, he spied fish coursing just below the surface, practically leaping out of the water as their dorsal fins broke through to the salty air. The fisherman grinned ear-to-ear. He cut the motor and cast the net immediately from his boat that was lightly tossed by the rolling waves.

He waited and he watched. He watched and he waited. The fish danced to their own rhythms beneath the waves - all deftly avoiding his net. As the sun sank in the western sky, dark clouds moved in quickly to cover it. The wind blew fiercer, tasting of rain now - cold and damp to the skin.

The fisherman shivered and cursed even harder as he yanked in the net for the last time. In his anger, he tore it, setting off a long string of curse words and anything his mind could use to season them.

He started the motor and kicked the empty net before him in disgust. Turning his little boat around, he headed back to shore. All that money for the dock rental and the gas to run this stupid boat out here - WASTED!

He was in a foul mood by the time he reached the docking slip. The sky was leaden grey with the approaching sunset and incoming storm, helping to further darken his spirits.

When the fisherman reached his slip, he saw a man sitting there dangling his feet from the dock. He appeared to be in his early thirties, dressed in jeans and a loose fitting shirt below his shoulder-length hair, a very common sight among the docks. When the man saw him approach, he smiled brightly through his beard, then got up and helped to guide the boat home into its berth as through he had done this countless times before.

“Thanks,” the fisherman grumbled, “but if you're looking to buy some fish from me tonight, you're out of luck. My net was empty all day. I don't even have a catch to share with my family.”

“That's a shame,” replied the stranger as he turned to face the wind and water, “I know there are fish out there.” Then his contemplative look brightened. “Say! I know a spot that always has fish; it's not too far from shore either.” He turned to the fisherman with a light sparkling in his eyes. “I could show you if you'd like.”

The fisherman shook his head wearily as he hauled the net up onto the dock. “Sorry. It's getting late and I have no running lights for night. Besides,” he scowled, “I tore my net hauling in the last cast. I need to take it home and repair it.”

The stranger sat down beside the dripping net, ignoring the pool of water that snaked its way toward his dry jeans. “I can help there; I know how to mend nets.” As if he knew where to go, his hand reached out and found the place the net was torn. Deftly, he worked the webbing and knotted the hole closed. Then he handed the section back to the fisherman to inspect.

The fisherman was awestruck. “How did you do that so quickly?”

The stranger smiled openly and laughed an easy laugh. “I've had lots of practice over the years.”

The fisherman studied the stranger a moment, not sure what to say or make of this man.

“Shall I show you this spot I know?” the stranger asked again.

“Uh... Thanks, but no thanks. I appreciate you helping me with my net, but I'm also out of gas. I don't think you can magically make my gas tank full again...?” he chuckled with a blend of amusement and sarcasm.

“I don't need to,” the stranger replied as he rose to his feet and pointed to the oars lying on either side of the boat.

The fisherman barked a bitter laugh. “I don't know about you, but my arms are tired from hauling this net in and out three times today.”

Wordlessly, the stranger hopped down into the boat, placed the oars in the oarlocks and sat ready to pull them with hands that were used to hard work.

The fisherman stood there mute and dumb. Maybe I fell asleep out there and I'm dreaming all this... He shrugged and hauled his net back into the boat, sitting down beside it as the stranger pulled against the oars setting them back out across the water again.

The fisherman pulled out his cell phone and hit the speed-dial button. “Yeah, it's just me. I wanted to tell you I'll be getting home a bit later... No, I'm fine. There's a guy here that wants to show me a spot where the fish are. We shouldn't be long... Don't worry. I'll be careful.... Yes, I see the rain too. I should have time enough for one last trip before full dark though.... OK, love you too.”

As the stranger checked their course over his shoulder and started a rhythmic rowing he faced the fisherman and asked, “Have you ever read the children's book The Little Engine That Could?”

The fisherman smiled, “Yeah, when my kids were young. That was one of their favorites. 'I think I can, I think I can...' Why do you ask?”

“Why haven't you listened to the book's message?”

“What message?”

The stranger paused and let the boat drift forward under its own momentum. “You need to believe in something to make it happen.”

“That works for kids, but reality sets in when you’re an adult.”

The stranger shook his head, “It's the same no matter your age. That's why children can understand it better. They don't have the false notions that life places in our heads when we're older. If you think you can - you can. That's it.”

“So what does that have to do with where the fish are?”

He released one oar to gesture over the rippling water as the oncoming storm's wind created whitecaps around them. “There is your hill.” Then he pointed to the net. “There is your train. Haul it over the hill if you can.”

I've got a loony in my boat, the man thought to himself, but he stood up to cast the net once again, trusting the stranger for some unknown reason.

“You don't have the right mindset,” scolded the stranger with a gentle smile. “You really need to think it. Not just think it, but believe it with your whole heart.”

“The 'I think I can, I think I can' thing?”

“Exactly! Try it. Trust in yourself. Trust that the fish will be there and that they will come into your net.”

The fisherman shrugged and cast the net out again. Immediately there was a tug on the lines. Both men watched over the side of the rocking boat as the fish streamed into the net, weighing it down tremendously.

The stranger laughed in delight, “See! I told you! It's a great spot.” The two worked side by side hauling in the net. The net was so full of fish; it could not be hauled into the boat, even with their joint efforts. “Let's pull into the shore there,” the stranger suggested pointing toward the beach. “The people there can help.”

The fisherman hung unto the net dearly as the stranger rowed toward the shore with renewed energy. The fisherman's heart sang in joy. “What a catch! Can you believe it? In all my years, I've never seen the like!”

“I have. It's great - something wonderful!”

“It is,” the fisherman agreed and grinned ear-to-ear despite the rain that started to pour down on their heads. The rain passed quickly and the dark clouds with it. By the time they reached the shore, the sun was peeking below the clouds, and kissed the western horizon.

Soaked head-to-toe and still elated, the fisherman called to those on the shore. “Ahoy! If you could help us haul in this catch, I'll share it with you. Come'on! We need the help!”

Puzzled looks were exchanged between the onlookers, but they waded out into the water. First one, then two, soon a whole group gathered taking the net in hand and following the fisherman's instructions to safely land the huge catch they had made.

While they were hauling in the net, the fisherman turned to the stranger beside him, also tugging on the heavy net. “You've earned at least half of this for showing me what you did. I'll share my half with these people; you can take home or sell the rest - whatever you want.”

The stranger smiled and shook his head. “I don't need any of this catch, not now. But I will ask you a boon.”

“Whatever you want. You've made my day.”

“There are others who are hungry. Take what you would give to me and feed them.”

The last words rung a chord somewhere deep inside the fisherman and he paused in shocked stillness a moment. With an overwhelming feeling of awe, he slowly turned to face the man beside him -- to really take a good hard look at who he was -- but that man was gone, leaving him to distribute the catch and head home with a remarkable “fish story” to tell.

The Fisherman (Story)

This is another story I wrote and wanted to share with my readers here. Please enjoy. :)
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Fisherman

The dawn had barely kissed the eastern horizon, lightening the clouds with a peach blush when the fisherman reached the dock slip where his boat was tied. Piled in his arms was an old but well-maintained net that carried the scent of fish and saltwater within its webbing. The morning breeze was gentle but continuous; gulls and other seabirds called to one another as they rode the air currents rolling along the shore.

The lone fisherman lowered his bundle to the dock and climbed down into his small boat, transferring the net to its place at the bow. This was once a pleasurable weekend past-time, but lean times had come to his part of world. He lost his job a month ago and his wife was barely holding on to the part-time clerical job she had. While their meager savings helped keep a roof over their head, the days he could dedicate to fishing helped keep food on the table and -- on occasion -- bring in a little more money too.

Checking the fuel gauge on the tank, he pumped the knob on the line to bring gas up to the outboard motor clamped to the back of his small boat. Habitually, he checked around the propeller to make sure it was clear and yanked the line hard, starting the little motor humming.

While alone in his boat, he wasn't the only one on the docks this hour. Several other fishermen were also underway - seemingly more every day he went out; all bringing home smaller catches. Pondering this, he maneuvered his small craft away from the docks and into the open water, where he cranked the motor to full power and felt the familiar vibrations run through his palm and up his arm.

He decided to try his favorite spot one last time, hoping to catch something. He got there early, cut the motor and cast his net into the sea. He poured himself a cup of still-hot coffee from his thermos and watched the waters beside his quiet boat. Not a ripple, not a stir. The larger fishing vessels chugged past him at a respectable distance, heading out to deeper waters. What would be the catch today? he wondered.

After a while, he concluded that, once again, there would be no fish here today. He grunted with the effort of hauling in the dripping nets, arranging them as he drew them in, so he could recast them. He started his motor and turned the bow toward where the larger vessels had gone. I'll find some fish in the deeper waters, he told himself, not really convinced. The motor's hum became a roar as he opened the throttle fully and the little boat leapt ahead.

Once he reached the deeper water, he cut the motor and paused, waiting and watching to see if the fish would approach. While he waited, he choked down a sandwich, ignoring the tang of the salt that transfered from his hands to the bread. First one, then another, soon a small school swam past and under his boat, as it rocked gently on the waves. Ah, this will do nicely, he thought. He cast his net into the sea and waited, hoping to have some catch to take home to his family. But doubt still enshrouded his heart, casting the small hope in darkness.

Even though fish swam past his boat, when he hauled in the net for the second time, it was as before - empty. The fisherman cursed as he hauled the heavy wet net onboard. I can't come home empty-handed again. Not again! He arranged the net for one final attempt and then sat in the stern to consider his next and final location carefully. The sun had already started its decent, and the gentle breeze had turned gusty bringing the scent of distant rain. The fisherman cast his eyes heavenward and called out "Hey, up there! Can't you help a man out down here? I'm just trying to feed my family. That's all! Give a guy a break whydon'tcha?"

Not waiting for an answer, he yanked the cord on the motor taking out some of his frustration. He checked the gauge on the tank and calculated where he was to go by what he needed to get back to shore, pushing further out. When he reached the last place, he spied fish coursing just below the surface, practically leaping out of the water as their dorsal fins broke through to the salty air. The fisherman grinned ear-to-ear. He cut the motor and cast the net immediately from his boat that was lightly tossed by the rolling waves.

He waited and he watched. He watched and he waited. The fish danced to their own rhythms beneath the waves - all deftly avoiding his net. As the sun sank in the western sky, dark clouds moved in quickly to cover it. The wind blew fiercer, tasting of rain now - cold and damp to the skin. The fisherman shivered and cursed even harder as he yanked in the net for the last time. In his anger, he tore it, setting off a long string of curse words and any thing his mind could use to season them.

He started the motor and kicked the empty net before him in disgust. Turning his little boat around, he headed back to shore. All that money for the dock rental and the gas to run this stupid boat out here - WASTED! He was in a foul mood by the time he reached the docking slip. The sky was leaden grey with the approaching sunset and incoming storm, helping to further darken his spirits.

When the fisherman reached his slip, he saw a man sitting there dangling his feet from the dock. He appeared to be in his early thirties, dressed in jeans and a loose fitting shirt below his shoulder-length hair, a very common sight among the docks. When the man saw him approach, he smiled brightly through his beard, then got up and helped to guide the boat home into its berth as through he had done this countless times before.

"Thanks," the fisherman grumbled, "but if you're looking to buy some fish from me tonight, you're out of luck. My net was empty all day. I don't even have a catch to share with my family."

"That's a shame," replied the stranger as he turned to face the wind and water, "I know there are fish out there." Then his contemplative look brightened. "Say! I know a spot that always has fish; it's not too far from shore either." He turned to the fisherman with a light sparkling in his eyes. "I could show you if you'd like."

 

The fisherman shook his head wearily as he hauled the net up onto the dock. "Sorry. It's getting late and I have no running lights for night. Besides," he scowled, "I tore my net hauling in the last cast. I need to take it home and repair it."

The stranger sat down beside the dripping net, ignoring the pool of water that snaked its way toward his dry jeans. "I can help there; I know how to mend nets." As if he knew where to go, his hand reached out and found the place the net was torn. Deftly, he worked the webbing and knotted the hole closed. Then he handed the section back to the fisherman to inspect.

The fisherman was awestruck. "How did you do that so quickly?"

The stranger smiled openly and laughed an easy laugh. "I've had lots of practice over the years."

The fisherman studied the stranger a moment, not sure what to say or make of this man.

"Shall I show you this spot I know?" the stranger asked again.

"Uh... Thanks, but no thanks. I appreciate you helping me with my net, but I'm also out of gas. I don't think you can magically make my gas tank full again...?" he chuckled with a blend of amusement and sarcasm.

"I don't need to," the stranger replied as he rose to his feet and pointed to the oars lying on either side of the boat.

The fisherman barked a bitter laugh. "I don't know about you, but my arms are tired from hauling this net in and out three times today."

Wordlessly, the stranger hopped down into the boat, placed the oars in the oarlocks and sat ready to pull them with hands that were used to hard work.

The fisherman stood there mute and dumb. Maybe I fell asleep out there and I'm dreaming all this... He shrugged and hauled his net back into the boat, sitting down beside it as the stranger pulled against the oars setting them back out across the water again.

The fisherman pulled out his cell phone and hit the speed-dial button. "Yeah, it's just me. I wanted to tell you I'll be getting home a bit later... No, I'm fine. There's a guy here that wants to show me a spot where the fish are. We shouldn't be long... Don't worry. I'll be careful.... Yes, I see the rain too. I should have time enough for one last trip before full dark though.... OK, love you too."

As the stranger checked their course over his shoulder and started a rhythmic rowing he faced the fisherman and asked, "Have you ever read the children's book 'The Little Engine That Could'?"

The fisherman smiled, "Yeah. When my kids were young. That was one of their favorites. 'I think I can, I think I can...' Why do you ask?"

"Why haven't you listened to the book's message?"

"What message?"

The stranger paused and let the boat drift forward under its own momentum. "You need to believe in something to make it happen."

"That works for kids, but reality sets in when your an adult."

The stranger shook his head, "It's the same no matter your age. That's why children can understand it better. They don't have the false notions that life places in our heads when we're older. If you think you can - you can. That's it."

"So what does that have to do with where the fish are?"

He released one oar to gesture over the rippling water as the oncoming storm's wind created whitecaps around them. "There is your hill." Then he pointed to the net. "There is your train. Haul it over the hill if you can."

I've got a loony in my boat, the man thought to himself, but he stood up to cast the net once again, trusting the stranger for some unknown reason.

"You don't have the right mindset," scolded the stranger with a gentle smile. "You really need to think it. Not just think it, but believe it with your whole heart."

"The 'I think I can, I think I can' thing?"

"Exactly! Try it. Trust in yourself. Trust that the fish will be there and that they will come into your net."

 

The fisherman shrugged and cast the net out again. Immediately there was a tug on the lines. Both men watched over the side of the rocking boat as the fish streamed into the net, weighing it down tremendously. 

The stranger laughed in delight, "See! I told you! It's a great spot." The two worked side by side hauling in the net. The net was so full of fish; it could not be hauled into the boat, even with their joint efforts. "Let's pull into the shore there," the stranger suggested pointing toward the beach. "The people there can help."

The fisherman hung unto the net dearly as the stranger rowed toward the shore with renewed energy. The fisherman's heart sang in joy. "What a catch! Can you believe it? In all my years, I've never seen the like!"

"I have. It's great - something wonderful!"

"It is," the fisherman agreed and grinned ear-to-ear despite the rain that started to pour down on their heads. 

The rain passed quickly and the dark clouds with it. By the time they reached the shore, the sun was peeking below the clouds, and kissed the western horizon. Soaked head-to-toe and still elated, the fisherman called to those on the shore. "Ahoy! If you could help us haul in this catch, I'll share it with you. Com'on! We need the help!"

Puzzled looks were exchanged between the onlookers, but they waded out into the water. First one, then two, soon a whole group gathered taking the net in hand and following the fisherman's instructions to safely land the huge catch they had made.

While they were hauling in the net, the fisherman turned to the stranger beside him, also tugging on the heavy net. "You've earned at least half of this for showing me what you did." I'll share my half with these people; you can take home or sell the rest - whatever you want."

The stranger smiled and shook his head. "I don't need any of this catch, not now. But I will ask you a boon."

"Whatever you want. You've made my day."

"There are others who are hungry. Take what you would give to me and feed them."

The last words rung a chord somewhere deep inside the fisherman and he paused in shocked stillness a moment. With an overwhelming feeling of awe, he slowly turned to face the man beside him -- to really take a good hard look at who he was -- but that man was gone, leaving him to distribute the catch and head home with a remarkable "fish story" to tell.

Walking thru Fog

Have you ever driven along a highway and there's a wall of fog across the road ahead of you? What happens when you hit that wall that reflects your headlights back to you and obscures everything beyond it's edge? Is there a feeling of impact? Is there a crumple of car echoing through the murk? Does the vehicle stop or even slow down upon contact? Or is there nothing impeding your forward momentum?

Or do you, the driver, take your foot off the accelerator because you are temporarily blinded by the fog?

There are sometimes moments in life when something can impede forward progress in much the same way as that wall of fog. There are days when we believe what others think about us - how they judge our actions and responses - are in essence the real "me."

I grew up the "outsider" kid in school. No one would talk with me. No one would play with me at recess. No one would eat at the same table with me, unless they were forced to by a teacher who felt sorry for me. When that happened, piles of books and bags would separate me from them, a clear indication they were not really with me. I was rejected. I was something no one wants to be near. I was alone and unloved.

It has taken another two decades to undo what the first twenty years of my life ingrained into my thinking. I realize now that I am loved, that I am someone of great value. Those who do not see it, do not see the true value that I carry within me. I also know that NO voice in this world has the right to counter the Love I receive from my Creator.

God does not make anything worthless, no matter what this world may say. In fact, that which this world values - money, power, prestige and popularity - is of little real value.

With God at my side, I am never alone.

I will admit, though, there are still times when that very valuable lesson gets lost in the fog. There are times when people tell me I am worthless. Someone recently took a poll of his friends to convince me that his assessment of my worthlessness was accurate. Why would I take his words over another? Do I value the words of those who belittle my worth over the words of the One who made me and knows truly what I am?

There are days when I hit that fog and take my foot off the accelerator. I stare with eyes that cannot penetrate the fog. I give substance to that fog when I believe the words of another, even when they are not true.

Elanor Roosevelt once stated, very wisely, "No one can make you feel inferior without your consent." Yet, I can still let myself be convinced that I am worthless from time-to-time. :(

I buy back into the "you are valueless, unwanted and unloved" messages again. I walk into the fog and stop dead on my own. The fog has no power to stop me. It's completely insubstantial. It brings moisture, such as tears to my eyes, but one can walk through it without a scratch. It only stopped me because I allowed it to stop me. I gave the condescending opinions of others the POWER to stop me.

Often we believe that there are only two choices: (1) We either accept the words - acknowledging that we are worthless or (2) we fight them, deny them, argue against them. In either case, we have given power to the lie, making it real and giving it some control over our lives and how we see ourselves. To accept is to make it real to us. To fight it... is ALSO to make it real to us. For would we fight something that is not really there? There is a third choice.

To ignore it completely. 

There is a great scene repeated a few times in the Naruto series. One character is a swaggering person of great skill but also great ego. There are times when this character tries to show how much greater he is than another, who is also known for great skill. He will swagger and boast and even try to bait the other into a competition to disprove the words. Then the other will turn to him and ask, "Did you just say something?" This takes the wind out of the other's sails like no amount of boasting or counter-attack. It rendered it completely insubstantial ~ like the fog.

Because I gave it, I can take that power to belittle me away again. I can walk through the fog and realize that the taunting words of others that are meant to cripple me... have no power over me at all.

The next time someone tries to make of me less than I am,
I hope I see the fog for what it truly is
And walk through it without a scratch.

- ESA

God is Not Vanilla!

Recently I've corresponded with a fellow Christian from a different denomination. Curious about the specific beliefs, customs, practices and interpretations, I asked some questions. Before long, I was deluged with everything from sermons, to lessons, to videos and songs, to news and even the recent announcement from the head of their denomination.

Perhaps the sender hoped I'd join the same flock. But much of what I received left me with a very bitter taste in my mouth. While I've seen this with other religious groups - Christian, non-Christian and even some atheists, this recent interchange brought it home once again...

There are people that believe that THEIR way is the one and ONLY way. That everything they say about God is 100% correct. And that those who do not agree with them are going to suffer - anything from ostracism and insults in this world to eternal damnation in the next. This is the BIGGEST turnoff for me and even disgusts me when I see it taken to extremes!

GOD IS NOT VANILLA!

The best description I know is "God is unknowable." Period! Human beings are not able to fully understand all the myriad and mysterious aspects of God.

Those that limit God to their beliefs / understandings and cast judgment, cut off or ridicule others loose so much by their actions. They do such a grave disservice, both to God and to their own attempts of truly getting to know God.

I may not get them to see as I do. But I do try to keep my eyes, hand and heart open even if theirs are closed.

He drew a circle
That shut me out.
Heretic, rebel,
A thing to flout.
But Love and I
Had the wit to win;
We drew a circle
And took him in!

-Edwin Markham

- ESA

The Fisherman (Story)

This is another story I wrote and wanted to share with my readers here. Please enjoy. :)
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The dawn had barely kissed the eastern horizon, lightening the clouds with a peach blush when the fisherman reached the dock slip where his boat was tied. Piled in his arms was an old but well-maintained net that carried the scent of fish and saltwater within its webbing. The morning breeze was gentle but continuous; gulls and other seabirds called to one another as they rode the air currents rolling along the shore.

The lone fisherman lowered his bundle to the dock and climbed down into his small boat, transferring the net to its place at the bow. This was once a pleasurable weekend past-time, but lean times had come to his part of world. He lost his job a month ago and his wife was barely holding on to the part-time clerical job she had. While their meager savings helped keep a roof over their head, the days he could dedicate to fishing helped keep food on the table and -- on occasion -- bring in a little more money too.

Checking the fuel gauge on the tank, he pumped the knob on the line to bring gas up to the outboard motor clamped to the back of his small boat. Habitually, he checked around the propeller to make sure it was clear and yanked the line hard, starting the little motor humming.

While alone in his boat, he wasn't the only one on the docks this hour. Several other fishermen were also underway - seemingly more every day he went out; all bringing home smaller catches. Pondering this, he maneuvered his small craft away from the docks and into the open water, where he cranked the motor to full power and felt the familiar vibrations run through his palm and up his arm.

He decided to try his favorite spot one last time, hoping to catch something. He got there early, cut the motor and cast his net into the sea. He poured himself a cup of still-hot coffee from his thermos and watched the waters beside his quiet boat. Not a ripple, not a stir. The larger fishing vessels chugged past him at a respectable distance, heading out to deeper waters. What would be the catch today? he wondered.

After a while, he concluded that, once again, there would be no fish here today. He grunted with the effort of hauling in the dripping nets, arranging them as he drew them in, so he could recast them. He started his motor and turned the bow toward where the larger vessels had gone. I'll find some fish in the deeper waters, he told himself, not really convinced. The motor's hum became a roar as he opened the throttle fully and the little boat leapt ahead.

Once he reached the deeper water, he cut the motor and paused, waiting and watching to see if the fish would approach. While he waited, he choked down a sandwich, ignoring the tang of the salt that transfered from his hands to the bread. First one, then another, soon a small school swam past and under his boat, as it rocked gently on the waves. Ah, this will do nicely, he thought. He cast his net into the sea and waited, hoping to have some catch to take home to his family. But doubt still enshrouded his heart, casting the small hope in darkness.

Even though fish swam past his boat, when he hauled in the net for the second time, it was as before - empty. The fisherman cursed as he hauled the heavy wet net onboard. I can't come home empty-handed again. Not again! He arranged the net for one final attempt and then sat in the stern to consider his next and final location carefully. The sun had already started its decent, and the gentle breeze had turned gusty bringing the scent of distant rain. The fisherman cast his eyes heavenward and called out "Hey, up there! Can't you help a man out down here? I'm just trying to feed my family. That's all! Give a guy a break whydon'tcha?"

Not waiting for an answer, he yanked the cord on the motor taking out some of his frustration. He checked the gauge on the tank and calculated where he was to go by what he needed to get back to shore, pushing further out. When he reached the last place, he spied fish coursing just below the surface, practically leaping out of the water as their dorsal fins broke through to the salty air. The fisherman grinned ear-to-ear. He cut the motor and cast the net immediately from his boat that was lightly tossed by the rolling waves.

He waited and he watched. He watched and he waited. The fish danced to their own rhythms beneath the waves - all deftly avoiding his net. As the sun sank in the western sky, dark clouds moved in quickly to cover it. The wind blew fiercer, tasting of rain now - cold and damp to the skin. The fisherman shivered and cursed even harder as he yanked in the net for the last time. In his anger, he tore it, setting off a long string of curse words and any thing his mind could use to season them. He started the motor and kicked the empty net before him in disgust. Turning his little boat around, he headed back to shore. All that money for the dock rental and the gas to run this stupid boat out here - WASTED! He was in a foul mood by the time he reached the docking slip. The sky was leaden grey with the approaching sunset and incoming storm, helping to further darken his spirits.

When the fisherman reached his slip, he saw a man sitting there dangling his feet from the dock. He appeared to be in his early thirties, dressed in jeans and a loose fitting shirt below his shoulder-length hair, a very common sight among the docks. When the man saw him approach, he smiled brightly through his beard, then got up and helped to guide the boat home into its berth as through he had done this countless times before.

"Thanks," the fisherman grumbled, "but if you're looking to buy some fish from me tonight, you're out of luck. My net was empty all day. I don't even have a catch to share with my family."

"That's a shame," replied the stranger as he turned to face the wind and water, "I know there are fish out there." Then his contemplative look brightened. "Say! I know a spot that always has fish; it's not too far from shore either." He turned to the fisherman with a light sparkling in his eyes. "I could show you if you'd like."

The fisherman shook his head wearily as he hauled the net up onto the dock. "Sorry. It's getting late and I have no running lights for night. Besides," he scowled, "I tore my net hauling in the last cast. I need to take it home and repair it."

The stranger sat down beside the dripping net, ignoring the pool of water that snaked its way toward his dry jeans. "I can help there; I know how to mend nets." As if he knew where to go, his hand reached out and found the place the net was torn. Deftly, he worked the webbing and knotted the hole closed. Then he handed the section back to the fisherman to inspect.

The fisherman was awestruck. "How did you do that so quickly?"

The stranger smiled openly and laughed an easy laugh. "I've had lots of practice over the years."

The fisherman studied the stranger a moment, not sure what to say or make of this man.

"Shall I show you this spot I know?" the stranger asked again.

"Uh... Thanks, but no thanks. I appreciate you helping me with my net, but I'm also out of gas. I don't think you can magically make my gas tank full again...?" he chuckled with a blend of amusement and sarcasm.

"I don't need to," the stranger replied as he rose to his feet and pointed to the oars lying on either side of the boat.

The fisherman barked a bitter laugh. "I don't know about you, but my arms are tired from hauling this net in and out three times today."

Wordlessly, the stranger hopped down into the boat, placed the oars in the oarlocks and sat ready to pull them with hands that were used to hard work.

The fisherman stood there mute and dumb. Maybe I fell asleep out there and I'm dreaming all this... He shrugged and hauled his net back into the boat, sitting down beside it as the stranger pulled against the oars setting them back out across the water again.

The fisherman pulled out his cell phone and hit the speed-dial button. "Yeah, it's just me. I wanted to tell you I'll be getting home a bit later... No, I'm fine. There's a guy here that wants to show me a spot where the fish are. We shouldn't be long... Don't worry. I'll be careful.... Yes, I see the rain too. I should have time enough for one last trip before full dark though.... OK, love you too."

As the stranger checked their course over his shoulder and started a rhythmic rowing he faced the fisherman and asked, "Have you ever read the children's book 'The Little Engine That Could'?"

The fisherman smiled, "Yeah. When my kids were young. That was one of their favorites. 'I think I can, I think I can...' Why do you ask?"

"Why haven't you listened to the book's message?"

"What message?"

The stranger paused and let the boat drift forward under its own momentum. "You need to believe in something to make it happen."

"That works for kids, but reality sets in when your an adult."

The stranger shook his head, "It's the same no matter your age. That's why children can understand it better. They don't have the false notions that life places in our heads when we're older. If you think you can - you can. That's it."

"So what does that have to do with where the fish are?"

He released one oar to gesture over the rippling water as the oncoming storm's wind created whitecaps around them. "There is your hill." Then he pointed to the net. "There is your train. Haul it over the hill if you can."

I've got a loony in my boat, the man thought to himself, but he stood up to cast the net once again, trusting the stranger for some unknown reason.

"You don't have the right mindset," scolded the stranger with a gentle smile. "You really need to think it. Not just think it, but believe it with your whole heart."

"The 'I think I can, I think I can' thing?"

"Exactly! Try it. Trust in yourself. Trust that the fish will be there and that they will come into your net."

The fisherman shrugged and cast the net out again. Immediately there was a tug on the lines. Both men watched over the side of the rocking boat as the fish streamed into the net, weighing it down tremendously. The stranger laughed in delight, "See! I told you! It's a great spot." The two worked side by side hauling in the net. The net was so full of fish; it could not be hauled into the boat, even with their joint efforts. "Let's pull into the shore there," the stranger suggested pointing toward the beach. "The people there can help."

The fisherman hung unto the net dearly as the stranger rowed toward the shore with renewed energy. The fisherman's heart sang in joy. "What a catch! Can you believe it? In all my years, I've never seen the like!"

"I have. It's great - something wonderful!"

"It is," the fisherman agreed and grinned ear-to-ear despite the rain that started to pour down on their heads. The rain passed quickly and the dark clouds with it. By the time they reached the shore, the sun was peeking below the clouds, and kissed the western horizon. Soaked head-to-toe and still elated, the fisherman called to those on the shore. "Ahoy! If you could help us haul in this catch, I'll share it with you. Com'on! We need the help!"

Puzzled looks were exchanged between the onlookers, but they waded out into the water. First one, then two, soon a whole group gathered taking the net in hand and following the fisherman's instructions to safely land the huge catch they had made.

While they were hauling in the net, the fisherman turned to the stranger beside him, also tugging on the heavy net. "You've earned at least half of this for showing me what you did." I'll share my half with these people; you can take home or sell the rest - whatever you want."

The stranger smiled and shook his head. "I don't need any of this catch, not now. But I will ask you a boon."

"Whatever you want. You've made my day."

"There are others who are hungry. Take what you would give to me and feed them."

The last words rung a chord somewhere deep inside the fisherman and he paused in shocked stillness a moment. With an overwhelming feeling of awe, he slowly turned to face the man beside him -- to really take a good hard look at who he was -- but that man was gone, leaving him to distribute the catch and head home with a remarkable "fish story" to tell.

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As author, I give you the right to copy, share and re-post the story provided it is not changed and provided you do not gain any monetary profit in doing so.

- ESA

Help from God (Story)

A recent debate on Twitter brought this story to my husband's mind. I wanted to share it with my readers:
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One day there was a bad storm causing tremendous flooding.

The whole area had been ordered to evacuate, but one man stood his ground and said, "No, I have Faith that God will save me."

All his neighbors left.

A jeep pulled up to his house and the driver called out, "Hey, guy, it's time to leave."

The National Guards pounded on his door, trying to convince him to leave.

He adamantly refused to leave, claiming, "No, I have Faith that God will save me."

The storm got worse, the water rose, lashing at the first floor windows.

A boat came by and the woman called out above the wind and rain, "HEY! You inside, you should have left earlier, but I can still get you to safety. It's time to go."

The man stayed inside, stubbornly refusing the assistance.

"No," he shouted back through a window, "I have Faith that God will save me."

The woman and boat moved on, searching for other survivors.

The waters continued to rise, eventually forcing the man up onto his roof where he clung to a chimney and prayed, "I still have faith in You, God. I know that You will save me."

A helicopter came.

The people within lowered a rope asking him to climb up.

He refused.

One of the rescuers lowered himself on another rope and tried to tie the rope around him.

He adamantly wrapped his arms around the chimney, hindering the efforts.

"No," he cried between clenched teeth, "I have Faith that God will save me."

With the storm's winds and rapidly rising water churning around his legs, the rescuer, at last, had to abandon the man to his fate and leave with the helicopter.

Soon after, the storm and the waters claimed the man on the roof -- drowning him.

The man found himself before the pearly gates of Heaven and stood puzzled before God.

"Why?" he asked. "Why? I had Faith that You would save me. Why did I drown when I had such Faith in You?"

God looked down at the man and shook His head sadly. "I sent you a jeep, a boat and a helicopter. What more did you want?"
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

There are times when we expect God will send help in ways WE want. We seem to tell God how to save us, how to help us, how to behave.

When we do that, often we fail to see God working through others.

God does things His way, not ours.
Limit not His help to our concept.
His ways are not our ways.

-ESA

Special Grocery List (Story)

This came to me by email and it's a beautiful story:
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Louise Redden, a poorly dressed lady with a look of defeat on her face, walked into a grocery store. She approached the owner of the store in a most humble manner and asked if he would let her charge a few groceries. She softly explained that her husband was very ill and unable to work, they had seven children and they needed food.

John Longhouse, the grocer, scoffed at her and requested that she leave his store at once.

Visualizing the family needs, she said: "Please, sir! I will bring you the money just as soon as I can."

John told her he could not give her credit, since she did not have a charge account at his store.

Standing beside the counter was a customer who overheard the conversation between the two. The customer walked forward and told the grocer that he would stand good for whatever she needed for her family.

The grocer said in a very reluctant voice, "Do you have a grocery list?"

Louise replied, "Yes sir."

"O.K" he said, "put your grocery list on the scales and whatever your grocery list weighs, I will give you that amount in groceries."

Louise hesitated a moment with a bowed head, then she reached into her purse and took out a piece of paper and scribbled something on it. She then laid the piece of paper on the scale carefully with her head still bowed.

The eyes of the grocer and the customer showed amazement when the scales went down and stayed down.

The grocer, staring at the scales, turned slowly to the customer and said begrudgingly, "I can't believe it."

The customer smiled and the grocer started putting the groceries on the other side of the scales. The scale did not balance so he continued to put more and more groceries on them until the scales would hold no more.

The grocer stood there in utter disgust. Finally, he grabbed the piece of paper from the scales and looked at it with greater amazement.

It was not a grocery list, it was a prayer, which said: "Dear Lord, you know my needs and I am leaving this in your hands."

The grocer gave her the groceries that he had gathered and stood in stunned silence.

Louise thanked him and left the store.

The other customer handed a fifty-dollar bill to the grocer and said; "It was worth every penny of it. Only God Knows how much a prayer weighs."

When you read this, please take a moment to say a prayer.

So few times we give credit to what prayer is and how much it can affect and influence our own lives and the lives of others.

Sometimes we need little reminders to show us there is Someone listening.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Pause
Pray
Please

- ESA

The Fisherman (Story)

The dawn had barely kissed the eastern horizon, lightening the clouds with a peach blush when the fisherman reached the dock slip where his boat was tied. Piled in his arms was an old but well-maintained net that carried the scent of fish and saltwater within its webbing. The morning breeze was gentle but continuous; gulls and other seabirds called to one another as they rode the air currents rolling along the shore.

The lone fisherman lowered his bundle to the dock and climbed down into his small boat, transferring the net to its place at the bow. This was once a pleasurable weekend past-time, but lean times had come to his part of world. He lost his job a month ago and his wife was barely holding on to the part-time clerical job she had. While their meager savings helped keep a roof over their head, the days he could dedicate to fishing helped keep food on the table and -- on occasion -- bring in a little more money too.

Checking the fuel gage on the tank, he pumped the knob on the line to bring gas up to the outboard motor clamped to the back of his small boat. Habitually, he checked around the propeller to make sure it was clear and yanked the line hard, starting the little motor humming.

While alone in his boat, he wasn't the only one on the docks this hour. Several other fishermen were also underway - seemingly more every day he went out; all bringing home smaller catches. Pondering this, he maneuvered his small craft away from the docks and into the open water, where he cranked the motor to full power and felt the familiar vibrations run through his palm and up his arm.

He decided to try his favorite spot one last time, hoping to catch something. He got there early, cut the motor and cast his net into the sea. He poured himself a cup of still-hot coffee from his thermos and watched the waters beside his quiet boat. Not a ripple, not a stir. The larger fishing vessels chugged past him at a respectable distance, heading out to deeper waters. What would be the catch today? he wondered.

After a while, he concluded that, once again, there would be no fish here today. He grunted with the effort of hauling in the dripping nets, arranging them as he drew them in, so he could recast them. He started his motor and turned the bow toward where the larger vessels had gone. I'll find some fish in the deeper waters, he told himself, not really convinced. The motor's hum became a roar as he opened the throttle fully and the little boat leapt ahead.

Once he reached the deeper water, he cut the motor and paused, waiting and watching to see if the fish would approach. While he waited, he choked down a sandwich, ignoring the tang of the salt that transfered from his hands to the bread. First one, then another, soon a small school swam past and under his boat, as it rocked gently on the waves. Ah, this will do nicely, he thought.

He cast his net into the sea and waited, hoping to have some catch to take home to his family. But doubt still enshrouded his heart, casting the small hope in darkness.

Even though fish swam past his boat, when he hauled in the net for the second time, it was as before - empty. The fisherman cursed as he hauled the heavy wet net onboard. I can't come home empty-handed again. Not again!

He arranged the net for one final attempt and then sat in the stern to consider his next and final location carefully. The sun had already started its decent, and the gentle breeze had turned gusty bringing the scent of distant rain. The fisherman cast his eyes heavenward and called out "Hey, up there! Can't you help a man out down here? I'm just trying to feed my family. That's all! Give a guy a break whydon'tcha?"

Not waiting for an answer, he yanked the cord on the motor taking out some of his frustration. He checked the gage on the tank and calculated where he was to go by what he needed to get back to shore, pushing further out.

When he reached the last place, he spied fish coursing just below the surface, practically leaping out of the water as their dorsal fins broke through to the salty air. The fisherman grinned ear-to-ear. He cut the motor and cast the net immediately from his boat that was lightly tossed by the rolling waves. He waited and he watched. He watched and he waited. The fish danced to their own rhythms beneath the waves - all deftly avoiding his net.

As the sun sank in the western sky, dark clouds moved in quickly to cover it. The wind blew fiercer, tasting of rain now - cold and damp to the skin. The fisherman shivered and cursed even harder as he yanked in the net for the last time. In his anger, he tore it, setting off a long string of curse words and any thing his mind could use to season them.

He started the motor and kicked the empty net before him in disgust. Turning his little boat around, he headed back to shore. All that money for the dock rental and the gas to run this stupid boat out here - WASTED! He was in a foul mood by the time he reached the docking slip. The sky was leaden grey with the approaching sunset and incoming storm, helping to further darken his spirits.

When the fisherman reached his slip, he saw a man sitting there dangling his feet from the dock. He appeared to be in his early thirties, dressed in jeans and a loose fitting shirt below his shoulder-length hair, a very common sight among the docks. When the man saw him approach, he smiled brightly through his beard, then got up and helped to guide the boat home into its berth as through he had done this countless times before.

"Thanks," the fisherman grumbled, "but if you're looking to buy some fish from me tonight, you're out of luck. My net was empty all day. I don't even have a catch to share with my family."

"That's a shame," replied the stranger as he turned to face the wind and water, "I know there are fish out there." Then his contemplative look brightened. "Say! I know a spot that always has fish; it's not too far from shore either." He turned to the fisherman with a light sparkling in his eyes. "I could show you if you'd like."

The fisherman shook his head wearily as he hauled the net up onto the dock. "Sorry. It's getting late and I have no running lights for night. Besides," he scowled, "I tore my net hauling in the last cast. I need to take it home and repair it."

The stranger sat down beside the dripping net, ignoring the pool of water that snaked its way toward his dry jeans. "I can help there; I know how to mend nets." As if he knew where to go, his hand reached out and found the place the net was torn. Deftly, he worked the webbing and knotted the hole closed. Then he handed the section back to the fisherman to inspect.

The fisherman was awestruck. "How did you do that so quickly?"

The stranger smiled openly and laughed an easy laugh. "I've had lots of practice over the years."

The fisherman studied the stranger a moment, not sure what to say or make of this man.

"Shall I show you this spot I know?" the stranger asked again.

"Uh... Thanks, but no thanks. I appreciate you helping me with my net, but I'm also out of gas. I don't think you can magically make my gas tank full again...?" he chuckled with a blend of amusement and sarcasm.

"I don't need to," the stranger replied as he rose to his feet and pointed to the oars lying on either side of the boat.

The fisherman barked a bitter laugh. "I don't know about you, but my arms are tired from hauling this net in and out three times today."

Wordlessly, the stranger hopped down into the boat, placed the oars in the oarlocks and sat ready to pull them with hands that were used to hard work.

The fisherman stood there mute and dumb. Maybe I fell asleep out there and I'm dreaming all this... He shrugged and hauled his net back into the boat, sitting down beside it as the stranger pulled against the oars setting them back out across the water again.

The fisherman pulled out his cell phone and hit the speed-dial button. "Yeah, it's just me. I wanted to tell you I'll be getting home a bit later... No, I'm fine. There's a guy here that wants to show me a spot where the fish are. We shouldn't be long... Don't worry. I'll be careful.... Yes, I see the rain too. I should have time enough for one last trip before full dark though.... OK, love you too."

As the stranger checked their course over his shoulder and started a rhythmic rowing he faced the fisherman and asked, "Have you ever read the children's book 'The Little Engine That Could'?"

The fisherman smiled, "Yeah. When my kids were young. That was one of their favorites. 'I think I can, I think I can...' Why do you ask?"

"Why haven't you listened to the book's message?"

"What message?"

The stranger paused and let the boat drift forward under its own momentum. "You need to believe in something to make it happen."

"That works for kids, but reality sets in when your an adult."

The stranger shook his head, "It's the same no matter your age. That's why children can understand it better. They don't have the false notions that life places in our heads when we're older. If you think you can - you can. That's it."

"So what does that have to do with where the fish are?"

He released one oar to gesture over the rippling water as the oncoming storm's wind created whitecaps around them. "There is your hill." Then he pointed to the net. "There is your train. Haul it over the hill if you can."

I've got a loony in my boat, the man thought to himself, but he stood up to cast the net once again, trusting the stranger for some unknown reason.

"You don't have the right mindset," scolded the stranger with a gentle smile. "You really need to think it. Not just think it, but believe it with your whole heart."

"The 'I think I can, I think I can' thing?"

"Exactly! Try it. Trust in yourself. Trust that the fish will be there and that they will come into your net."

The fisherman shrugged and cast the net out again. Immediately there was a tug on the lines. Both men watched over the side of the rocking boat as the fish streamed into the net, weighing it down tremendously. The stranger laughed in delight, "See! I told you! It's a great spot." T

he two worked side by side hauling in the net. The net was so full of fish; it could not be hauled into the boat, even with their joint efforts. "Let's pull into the shore there," the stranger suggested pointing toward the beach. "The people there can help."

The fisherman hung unto the net dearly as the stranger rowed toward the shore with renewed energy. The fisherman's heart sang in joy. "What a catch! Can you believe it? In all my years, I've never seen the like!"

"I have. It's great - something wonderful!"

"It is," the fisherman agreed and grinned ear-to-ear despite the rain that started to pour down on their heads. The rain passed quickly and the dark clouds with it. By the time they reached the shore, the sun was peeking below the clouds, and kissed the western horizon. Soaked head-to-toe and still elated, the fisherman called to those on the shore. "Ahoy! If you could help us haul in this catch, I'll share it with you. Com'on! We need the help!"

Puzzled looks were exchanged between the onlookers, but they waded out into the water. First one, then two, soon a whole group gathered taking the net in hand and following the fisherman's instructions to safely land the huge catch they had made.

While they were hauling in the net, the fisherman turned to the stranger beside him, also tugging on the heavy net. "You've earned at least half of this for showing me what you did." I'll share my half with these people; you can take home or sell the rest - whatever you want."

The stranger smiled and shook his head. "I don't need any of this catch, not now. But I will ask you a boon."

"Whatever you want. You've made my day."

"There are others who are hungry. Take what you would give to me and feed them."

The last words rung a chord somewhere deep inside the fisherman and he paused in shocked stillness a moment. With an overwhelming feeling of awe, he slowly turned to face the man beside him -- to really take a good hard look at who he was -- but that man was gone, leaving him to distribute the catch and head home with a remarkable "fish story" to tell.

- ESA