The Fight for Your Life | Previous Challenge Entry

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TITLE: The Fight for Your Life | Previous Challenge Entry
By Kristie Derksen
02/04/07
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The wind teased the thin wispy hair on the older man’s head, the younger gentleman’s thick curly tresses remained unmoved, securely gelled into place. Sporting the same unique green eyes, they were easily identified as father and son. The boat rocked gently as the water rippled around them as if it too were shaking from the cold, the sun hiding behind the clouds.

“Is there a reason why I’m here?” The pungent reek of fish permeated the air just as strongly as raw tension clouded around them.

“I’ve loved fishing since I was a boy. It relaxes me.” John’s shaking hand placed another worm on the end of his hook.

“So does the bottle, John.” The son mumbled under his breath. John ignored the pointed remark, pretending he didn’t hear.

“Well boy? Are you gonna bait that thing or what?”

“Nope. I don’t like to torture poor unsuspecting creatures for sport.” Adam sneered, glaring at his father.

“I never tortured you.” The elderly man whispered.

“Think what you want, man.” The wrinkled face grew regretful as he thought on their past. But quickly reminding himself he wasn’t that man anymore, he sat straighter, ready to show his son he’d changed.

“Son?” Vulnerability shrouded his face.

“What?” Adam answered, playing with the hook on his fishing rod, feigning boredom.

“I love you, you know.” Adam’s body grew rigid. He’d never heard his father say such a thing. He didn’t know how to respond. He was a 26-year-old man. Since when did his father’s love mean anything to him? He always told himself he didn’t care. Then why was there a huge knot in his throat? He tried to clear it out. But it wouldn't budge. Blinking profusely, he distracted himself by digging his hand into the jar of worms, pulled out a squirming fat one, and stuck it with his hook. Casting off, he averted his gaze.

“Hey…um…Dad?” Now it was John’s throat’s turn to seize up. Adam hadn’t called him Dad since he was little. He sent a silent prayer of thanks up to his Father. “What’s…” Suddenly Adam’s fishing wire grew taut as a fish latched on. Straining his muscles he began to reel it in, his forearms flexing with the effort.

“Come on son! You can do it! Pull that sucker in!” He pulled with all his might, the fish on the end refusing to give up his life. And suddenly the line snapped, throwing Adam’s 6’4 frame hurtling over the side of the boat. With a loud splash, he disappeared beneath the glassy surface.

Gasping to the surface, Adam’s arms flailed. But quickly regaining his composure he pushed back his curly mop, the gel that kept it in place long gone. Looking up at his father, he burst out laughing, pulling himself back into the boat.

“So much for ‘poor’ and ‘unsuspecting’. That little guy gets what he deserves.” A grin remained in placed, causing his eyes to glitter like twin emeralds in the sunlight.

“Well Adam, you put up a good fight. I’m proud of you!” Adam quickly sobered, staring intently at his dad.

“You seem so different. I haven’t seen you for years. But still. You’re different, you know. Why?” Staring at him a little longer, he asked, “You on drugs?”

The older man laughed.

“Do you truly want to know?”

“Yeah. I do.”

“Well son, I finally found what I was looking for all my life, a Father of my own. You see, I was kind of like that fish that pushed you out of the boat. The Lord was trying to reel me in, to fulfill my purpose, but I was pulling away, trying to avoid him. But the Lord didn’t give up. And apparently he has better fishing wire, because he finally caught me. And I haven’t regretted it for a day. He has changed my life. And so now I am not only a fisherman, but a fisher of men. I am fulfilling my purpose. The Lord filled the gap in my life, and now I am finally free.”

“I want that too Dad. I really do.” Adam said, wiping away the tears and water dripping down his face.

And so with the boat gently rocking, a light breeze blowing their hair, and the sun warming their backs, they joined hands, bowed their heads and prayed to their gracious Father. And somewhere in the distance a fish jumped, a hook fastened to its lip.

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