OUTDOOR TRUTHS: Fishing Memories & God
By Gary Miller
When I first began bass fishing as a young adult, I didn’t have the luxury of a bass boat and all of its frills. I fished with a friend who had a “V” hull aluminum boat. The trolling motor was small and the outboard was even smaller. He owned a small cabin on the lake so our fishing always started from the same location. Because of the limited horsepower we rarely traveled very far away. We always fished in the same places and seldom went home empty handed. It seems as I got older and better equipped I traveled farther and farther up and down the lake to find those illusive bass, only to have pretty much the same results. You see now I spend more of my time moving than I do fishing and while I can see what’s below now with a fish finder, I once knew what was below by experience. I had fished Straight Creek Hollow so many times, under so many situations, that I knew where the bass were probably hiding. I was simply forced to bloom where I was planted. Oh there were times that I wished I were up in the river or down beside the bridge; but I was forced to learn to succeed where I was at the time. I think about this same scenario when I deer hunt. I know that I will be better off if I will just come to know the 50 acres I’ve been given instead of trying to hunt 400 acres.
I can remember taking a picture of a young pine tree. It was growing from the middle of a huge rock and it was thriving. What it couldn’t go around, above, or under, it just went through. I knew that it was not supposed to grow there but it didn’t. I knew that it was out of place but it didn’t. I could have explained to it every reason why it would never become a fruitful tree but the only thing that would have been unfruitful were my words. Because, you see, it bloomed where it was planted.
Don’t let anyone tell you that you will never succeed where you are. Take God with you and what you can’t go around, above, or under, He will take you through.
Gary Miller can be reached via e-mail at firstname.lastname@example.org