The Most Important Lesson I Have Ever Learned
One of the most important lessons I’ve learned is that life comes full circle. It was a life of fishing memories that brought this to light.
When a toddler, my grandparents would take me fishing with them. Often on a lake, after they had caught a few fish, Grandma would divert my attention. As she did so, Gramps would take my fishing pole, grab a fish, and attach my hook to its mouth. He’d then slide the fish back into the water. Next, my grandparents would whoop and holler, “Dougie, you got one!” They would help me reel in my catch and spend the rest of the trip bragging about what a good little fisherman I was.
Later, the trips mainly consisted of Grandpa and me. Though I was no longer a toddler, I always talked Gramps into tying and baiting my hook. He seemed happy to oblige and truth be told I think he preferred it that way—it kept me close, allowing him to keep an eye out for my safety.
Finally I learned to tie and bait my own hook. Shortly thereafter, when we’d go fishing, Gramps and I would split at water’s edge, one heading up stream the other down. Grandpa was still a little nervous for my safety and it wouldn’t surprise me if the noises I sometimes heard in the bushes was him trying to quietly check on me.
Time passed, we both grew older, and I became reluctant to separate from Gramps while fishing. As with every living thing age had taken its natural course. His heart grew weaker, his sight faded, and he became less agile on his feet, often stumbling among the rocks in a stream, falling into the water.
Soon, I found myself wanting to keep him by my side, under my watchful care. But there was no chance of accomplishing this without insulting his pride. So, after we’d split at a stream bank, I’d often sneak to some foliage behind gramps and peek out to be sure he was all right.
Finally it happened. It was one of our last outings before his death. It was late afternoon and we were standing on his porch, rigging our poles. I noticed gramps having difficulty threading his line through the hook’s eye. Finally, with a sheepish grin, he asked, “Guess my eyes ain’t what they use to be. Think you could tie my hook for me?” I stood in silence at the wonderment of how life comes full circle. A smile spread across my face as I recalled the many years he had tied hooks for me and worried for my safety. It was now my turn to tie his hook. It was my turn to worry for his safety, to care for the caretaker, and it was a privilege to do so.
Now when I tie a hook or bait a line for my sons, my thoughts turn to that last outing with my grandfather and as my soul fills with warmth I thank the Lord for the opportunity to experience the circle of life.