I come from a long line of fisherman and cranberry boggers. Growing up it didn’t seem like a big deal. My grandparents would wake up at 4AM with the same routine. My grandfather would go get the bait- all kinds of worms for different types of fish. This completely grossed me out but I could not fish if I didn’t put the worm on the hook. While he was out getting the slithering bait my grandmother was boiling eggs, making toast, Folgers coffee, sandwiches for lunch, snacks and packing it all up in the cooler. Some days we would hitch the boat to the back of the car and other days we would drive to their spot to fish from the bridge.
The day was filled with music from a radio with an antenna, laughter, love and pure joy. Every time we caught a fish they would decide if it was good for eating. If it was large enough it would go in the bucket to be cleaned or thrown back in the ocean to live. Once the bucket was filled we would return home for the process of removing the guts and scales. I never participated in the cleaning because I used all my energy on putting worms on hooks. However once the fish was cooked friends and family would gather for the feast. Little did I know my grandparents prepared and equipped me for the greatest calling I never knew I wanted.
“And He said to them, “Follow Me [as My disciples, accepting Me as your Master and Teacher and walking the same path of life that I walk], and I will make you fishers of men.” Matthew 4:19 (AMP)