The Treasure

On a bright and sunny September morning, I took my three and a half –year-old son out for his first ever fishing trip.  I had intentionally prioritized this moment with his older sister the year before and now that his sister was sequestered into the halls of the higher educational realms of kindergarten, it was his turn.  We loaded the boat with snacks, bottles of root beer, life jackets and a Superman fishing pole. 

Along the way, we stopped at Kamps Korner in Swanville, MN to buy some bait and fuel for the excursion.  Once I had paid for our gas and minnows, I drug him away from the minnow tanks, insisting the he let go of the minnows in his hands.  He hesitated to leave the ichthyologic region of the bait shop until I promised him that he could play with the minnows that we had just purchased.  He eagerly agreed, and we pulled into the lake access a few minutes later.

After securing his life vest and launching the boat, I fired up the 1956 7.5 hp Evinrude motor and we put forth toward the not so secret black crappy location on the small lake.  Upon arriving at the small sunken island in the middle of the lake, I dropped the anchor and we set up to fish.  I took the cheap spincast Superman rod and set it up with a small slip-bobber, a hook and a minnow.  I made the mistake of showing Isaac how to cast, because despite my instruction of letting the bobber sit in the water until it is pulled under, he continued to cast and reel, cast and reel, cast and reel…never allowing the bobber to even sit remotely still. 

In a moment of surprise, I found that beyond my apathetic expectations, a short while later, the boy pulled in a respectable largemouth bass.  His excitement was frenzied and untamable! From this moment my son was hooked, (pun intended).  At the end of our time on the water, I loaded the boat while he stood on the dock and continued to cast the Superman.

Yesterday, 15 years later, Isaac and I loaded the boat and set out for the same small lake.  He no longer uses the Superman rod, rather, he uses a fancy baitcasting rod and reel combo.  It is indeed one of his treasured possessions, as he saved a long time for the Fenwick HMG and the Shimano SLX.  Perhaps it would be better said, “was,” one of his treasured possessions, since the rod suddenly blew out of the boat on our way to the lake and was immediately run over by the car directly behind us. 

To say the least, it was devastating.  We were both equally distraught as to what had just happened.  After picking up the broken rod from the roadway, we continued to the lake, both feeling soured from our earlier eagerness.  Our time on the water was subdued.  We caught a fair number of bass and enjoyed our time together, but it was difficult to not remember the loss of what we had just experienced.  At one point Isaac spoke up, “Well…It’s not like I would be taking it to heaven with me anyway.”

When we wrapped up our time on the water, and I was finalizing the securing of the equipment, I looked to the dock where my son stood.  I saw his silhouette against the setting sun as he continued to cast for bass just as he had done 15 years ago from the very same spot. 

He has grown…nearly 4 feet in stature and perhaps 50 feet in spirituality.  His struggle with the loss of the rod was real, but so was the evidence of his faith.  In that moment, he reminded me of what Jesus teaches us in Matthew 6:19-24.  It is easy to store up for ourselves treasures on this earth.  However, just as Jesus says, these treasures will rot, rust, be eaten by moths…or run over by a tailgating vehicle.  Yesterday, I experienced the REAL treasure…time with my son.  He is the one who reminded me of the EVEN GREATER treasure…the GREATEST treasure, the eternal time with Jesus.

May we come to know the GREATEST Treasure.