By Mary Morrell
Freelance columnist
You can’t duck when God’s hook is cast
Let your hook be always cast; in the pool where you least expect it, there will be a fish. — Ovid
Several years ago, when gathered with some friends for a fall “retreat” experience (aka party) my friend Rich taught us all a little about the unexpected ways we can be “hooked” by God.
Dressed in costumes, the why of which I have no memory, we were sitting around in a circle talking, eating, drinking and laughing when Rich, who was dressed as a fisherman complete with hook-ladened fishing hat, leaned back in his fold-away cushion chair and flipped over backwards.
That in itself was enough to send us into stitches, but when he got himself up righted and announced to us that he couldn’t get his hat off, we thought he had had too much to drink.
He kept mumbling about it, we kept laughing, until finally he said, “Really, I can’t get my hat off. It’s hooked to my head.”
Well, you can imagine the hysteria that ensued.
The home-surgery, the attempt to film for America’s Funniest Home Videos, the hours of laughter, will go down for all of us in the annals of best party ever! But in our more retiring, and kindly, moments, the incident also led to many discussions of Jesus and fishermen and being reeled in by God.
None of us were surprised, then, when Rich entered into the diaconate program several years later!
So, when I had my own “hooked” experience recently, I could only drive away smiling — and a bit apprehensive.
I was leaving Lavalette in the evening after providing a workshop to parish catechists and driving over the bridge into Toms River. Below me, as I neared the end of the bridge, was a shoreline with a number of boats docked in the bay.
Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed something coming toward my windshield. I thought it might be a rock and braced for the impact. When it hit, my insides felt like they were going to jump out of my throat! I was shaking as I inspected for damage but, amazingly, saw none.
As I continued to drive on I could hear something hitting the side of my car. I couldn’t imagine what it might be but it was loud enough to cause me to pull into an empty parking lot to check.
There, wrapped around my side view mirror, was a fishing line, complete with sinker, lure and hooks. It was nearly impossible to untangle and the fishing line seemed to drag on endlessly behind my car. Finally, after a few minutes of coiling, I bit the line in two.
I could only imagine that some poor fisherman had cast his line only to have it caught up by the wind and tossed over the bridge. I hoped that he did not lose his pole as well, but was glad it didn’t find its way to my car!
Visions of Richie tugging on his hat came to mind and I started to laugh — that was until I realized the implications of being hooked — by God.
I took a deep breath as I gently placed the lure and hooks on the floor of my car, thinking, I could just wrap it all up for Rich and tell him, ‘I think these were meant for you. It was dark, after all, and God’s not getting any younger.”
Then again, since it’s never possible to fool God even if I could fool Richie, maybe it would be better if I just invested in a good pair of hip boots. I have a feeling I could be spending some time out in deep water.
*The attached/referenced article was originally published in The Catholic Spirit, the official newspaper of the Diocese of Metuchen, and is protected under U.S. and international copyright law