So like I said, Joey now likes to fish. We got up early Tuesday morning and drove up to Gold Lake where he caught three fish the morning before. The sun was only shinning on one part of the lake so I followed my husband across a long beach of rocks, two books in one hand, a lawn chair in the other. Joey had his hands full too, but I still had to stop myself from thinking the whole way, what happened to the man carrying stuff for the woman? Of course, when I read the bible, I get all bent out of shape when there are very defined male and female roles, but on a rocky beach with arms that feel like jello, I am all for male and female roles (with the man as the chair-carrier of course).
So I told myself to stop being such a weenie and to enjoy this morning alone (we left Ethan with Nawnie and Ampa).
We finally got to a spot Joey thought fish might be and boy did I have to poop. Joey said I could use leaves if I wanted for tolit paper but I decided I would pass, so I just pulled down my pants and peed instead. I have become a very good squating pee-er. I always make Joey watch, partly to let me know if anyone is comming but mostly because I am showing off. I don't get it on my pants or shoes or anything. Boys think they are so cool because they can pee anywhere; I want Joey to know that I can pee anywhere too. It must be that male/female thing again. Plus I saw mice in the bushes directly where I had decided would be the best spot to go, or at least a squirl, and I hate rodents.
After that it was such a great morning. I pulled my chair close to Joey, but not too close because we were still on rocks, and read while he sat there looking relaxed as only fishermen do. Every so often he would spit his sonflower shells into the water and I would look down and watch them bob inbetween the rocks, never really going anywhere.
My books put me in a great mood: Elyse Fitzpatrick's Helper by Design and Andree Seu's Won't Let You Go Until You Bless Me.
After a while (still no fish) I went up to where there were no rocks and laid a blanket down (one that Joey brought for me... now that's what I am talking about.) I laid my head on my sweatshirt and closed my eyes. The air still had the morning chilliness in it, so the sun felt like a fire warming my cheeks, my arms. I listened to the water lap on the rocks. Occaisionally I heard the quiet wizz of Joey bringing in his line to re-bait.
Joey eventally caught one fish, a pretty shiny thing with watery, dark eyes. He asked if I wanted to reel it in and I said "no" without even thinking. Once the fish was out of the water, flapping and flipping all over the place, Joey grabbed him and held him tight in his grip. "Comm'ere little guy," he said, and squeezed him so he couldn't move. I tried to act normal even though the fish was dying and his eyes looked terrified, although I think they look that way anyway. I told Joey "good job" and "thats a good one" but on the inside I felt bad.
Joey finally had to yank the hook out of the fish's mouth because it wasn't just slidding out. He turned so I wouldn't see, but when he turned back around there was blood on the fish, on Joey's hands.
He put the fish in a plastic bag and put it in the water, tied to a rock. I tried to go back to sleep but kept thinking about that fish and trying to decide if I wanted to turn vegetarian. I wondered if we will be vegetarians in heaven. I knew that wouldn't be good for those die-hard steak lovers, but I wondered if we kill to eat because that is how God planned it or if that is because of the fall.
I decided I was being silly but that I still didn't like to kill things or watch them die.
Which is why when Joey picked up the plastic bad with the fish in it to go home, I asked him if it was dead.
"Yeah, he's dead." I felt better that it was all over. But then the bag started moving and it was obvious the fish wasn't dead, rather he was flapping around in the pink blood tinted water that was fast draining out of the plastic bag.
I took a deep breath, knowing the plastic rustle would stop soon, and the fish would be still and gone. And soon it was quiet and we walked back on the rocks.
The fish really was tasty, and I was thankful for all those Omega-3's. I still don't know if we will eat meat in heaven, but I tell you what, I don't like to watch the process of "live animal to dead animal to table"--maybe too it's just another one of those male/female things.