Fishing for God

“You are anxious. What for?”

The man at the Walmart outdoor sports counter said it more like a statement than a question.

“No, I’m not.” I said defensively.

I had been unbraiding and re-braiding my hair as I waited for my turn in line to secure my annual fishing license.

Maybe I am nervous, I thought. It’s probably the gun case filled with rifles and ammo behind the man at the counter.

“I’m just in a hurry.” I told him.

Which was true. I always am. I’ve never strolled leisurely into a store a day in my life.

The man behind the counter slowly picked up the tablet and asked for my ID. He pecked at the keyboard at snail speed and I took a deep breath and willed my body to be still and my mind to chill. I would show him…I’m not anxious.

He asked me the standard questions and I answered each one. He asked me if I needed bait and come to think of it, I did, so after registering with the state of Colorado my intention to feed the fish at every available mountain reservoir, we walked to the nearby aisle and he began to thoroughly describe the variety of options available.

As this man held court with me in the fish bait aisle, I found myself noticing the time it was taking and noted that my many errands were incomplete. I still needed the Smore’s stuff and sunscreen but I mentally pushed my list out of my mind. I needed to show this man the calm demeanor of a non-anxious woman who can handle baiting her own hook.

It was about then when I started to realize my chill and patient vibe may have taken things too far when this man, upon realizing his calming effect on my nerves, thought he might help me with one more thing I’d need for my fishing trip…a spiritual lesson.

“When you are fishing,” he said, “that is the time to talk to God. He’s there.”

His words hung between us and he looked at me with sparkles in his eyes. The lines around his smile crinkled with sincerity, and suddenly I was no longer standing in a Walmart. I was standing in his sacred worldview.

“He’s close by when you are on the shore fishing…just look all around you and listen, and God will speak.”

The quiet confidence in his voice dis-armed me.

Suddenly. I was not pretending to be calm. I just was.

I didn’t need to feign patience. I was presence.

I registered with surprise, my own evolution. There were many years before this one, when being proselytized to at Walmart would send me into a tailspin of annoyance.

But not today. Today, busy as I was, I was not too busy to admire this man’s love for the divinity of living his one life. I truly wanted to hear him describe his language of God.

So I let him tell me how to talk to the God of his understanding while I’m at the lake, fishing.

I really listened to him. Like a scholarly student would listen to their favorite teacher.

I found myself enjoying his devotion. And even promising him that I would speak to God myself, while I fished along the shorelines of Colorado’s mountain lakes this summer.

In that moment, I thought of something a friend once told me—words she quotes often from her spiritual teacher: “We should fall to our knees at the sight of the divinity within one another.”

And I did. Not literally. But inwardly, I was brought to that humble, quiet place. I was moved by the God within him…and by his enthusiasm to share it with me.

As I walked away from our interaction, I felt a surprising shift. I noticed how much has changed. How much I’ve healed from the pain inflicted by others who once scared me with their version of God, wrapped as it was in fear and pain.

I was reminded: words mean so many different things to different people. But today, I could hear the truth of his.

Today, I was teachable and tellable. And so, I got a lesson in fishing for God. And even though I still didn’t want to believe he knew my emotions better than I do, I had to give it to him…I was not anxious now.

I was calm. I was opened. I was moved.

And ready to go fishing.