An unexpected catch: A fishing story reels in a boatload of hope

Marty and Mary Miller are all smiles recalling a fishing adventure that brought together youths from different walks of life and gave the couple another source of hope in God. (Submitted photo)

(Editor’s note: As Pope Francis has announced a Jubilee Year for the Church with the theme, ‘Pilgrims of Hope,’ The Criterion has invited you, our readers, to share your stories of hope—how embracing hope has helped and guided you in the toughest moments of your life, how others have given you hope for your future, how your faith in God has sustained you and uplifted you. Here is another story in a continuing series. See part three)
 

By John Shaughnessy

Fish-related stories are like, well, fish—they come in different varieties, creating distinct sensations of taste.

A sensation of wonder still fills the soul from hearing the story of Christ multiplying a meager amount of loaves and fishes to feed thousands of hungry followers.

There’s a taste of challenge in the request that Jesus makes to Simon and Andrew as they cast their nets in the sea, telling them, “Come after me, and I will make you fishers of men” (Mk 1:17).

And in the lives of people who fish today, there’s a delicious flavor of humor when they come across this quote about fishing: “Sometimes when the water is quiet, you can almost hear the fish laughing at you.”

And whether the story is from the Bible or in a boat or along water today, there’s one universal connection among all people who have ever fished:

Hope.

Which leads to a fishing-related story of hope involving Mary and Marty Miller of St. Paul Catholic Center in Bloomington.

A prayer of hope for the children

“This is a story of hope and holding onto it even when everything seems to be going wrong,” Mary begins. “The way I see it, hope is the belief that God in his divine providence will provide.”

Yet that belief was tested for Mary when Marty was part of an effort to bring together two groups of children from different walks of life, all in the hope of letting them experience their shared humanity.

That effort unfolded about 20 years ago, Mary says.

“At the time, we were living in Martinsville,” she notes. “It was late fall, and Marty was involved with an organization within our community that was putting together a cultural exchange—between Martinsville kids and children from Indianapolis. This took the form of a fishing trip to Bradford Woods [in Morgan County].

“The planning committee worked very hard to ensure that children from diverse backgrounds and cultures would have a successful and fun experience, both individually and as part of a team. As is our practice, my husband and I prayed beforehand that all would go smoothly.”

They prayed some more when rain “came down in heavy, cold sheets” on the Friday before the Saturday get-together.

“That evening, Marty received several calls from workers wondering if the early morning outing would be called off,” Mary recalls. “My husband, who hadn’t bought the food yet, was beginning to think that might not be a bad idea. But it was decided—rain or not—the event was ‘a go.’ ”

Yet, as Marty got ready to leave their home to buy food that evening, another challenge came, this one far more concerning than the raging rain.

‘I was even a little angry with God’

“He was almost out the door when he received a call from his mother, who said she was experiencing chest pains,” Mary says. “He dropped everything and rushed her to the emergency room.”

The scare fortunately turned out to be a false alarm.

“He got back home around midnight, and we went out and bought the food. That is, everything but the buns,” Mary recalls. “There was a mix-up, and we were told the buns would not arrive in the grocery store until the next morning—early, we hoped.

“The rain and wind continued throughout the night. Marty got up early, packed the car with hot dogs, chips, water and tons of hot chocolate. He headed for the grocery and then to Bradford Woods. As he pulled out, my mood was as gloomy as the chilling rain.”

A part of her gloom was directed at God.

“I was sure the fishing trip was doomed. ‘How unfair,’ I thought. I was even a little angry with God. How could he let our prayers go unanswered? After all, our intentions were the best. Huge amounts of time and effort had gone into planning this event. And it was for the kids, for pity’s sake!”

That foul feeling stayed with her throughout that Saturday, but she was determined to set it aside when Marty came home that evening.

“I was sure the worst had happened, but I psyched myself up to support him in his exasperation, discouragement and fatigue,” she recalls. “I was shocked when he entered the house with a broad smile on his face and a look of great satisfaction.”

Mary then recalls the conversation that followed with her husband.

“Well,” I said, “you must have done indoor stuff with the kids.”

“No,” he replied, “they were outside fishing the entire time.”

“Then the kids must have brought very good rain gear.”

“Nope. In fact, many of them had to use big plastic bags with holes cut out for their arms. They had the most wonderful time!”

Mary asked, “But how can that be?”

Her husband just smiled and said, “Simple, the fish were biting all day.”

‘Hope does not fail’

Mary regards that fishing trip as another story of God’s providence—“one of the stories of the great gift of hope in my life.”

“Remembering this story always makes me smile,” she says. “It was indeed a fast and much desired answer to a prayer. One might say a kind of miracle, a little like the disciples following Christ’s directive of casting their nets and pulling up more fish than could be imagined. Like the disciples, we were amazed and grateful. It is lovely to have quick answers to prayer.”

At the same time, Mary has lived and prayed long enough to know that prayers aren’t always answered quickly or even as people hope. Still, she strives to keep her hope and faith in God, trusting in his plans for her, her husband and their family.

“To be perfectly honest, we have found in our 54 years of marriage that answers often do not come for years, even decades, and perhaps won’t come for generations,” she says. “We have come to accept that life never flows evenly, and expectations often fall short. But if we wait patiently and don’t give in to darkness, God’s caring presence will prevail, often in the quietest of ways.

“This message that was handed down to us is true—‘Hope does not fail’—and we try to pass this on the best we can. Over the years, we spent a good deal of time with our small grandchildren. They often stayed overnight, and we usually ended the day with a night prayer. Now that they are older and making their own way, when we say goodbye, we often lovingly add, ‘Keep the faith!’

“That seems to be the best we can give them.”
 

(If you have a story of hope to share, please send it to John Shaughnessy by e-mail at jshaughnessy@archindy.org or by mail in care of The Criterion, 1400 N. Meridian St., Indianapolis, IN 46202. Please include your parish and a daytime phone number where you can be reached.) †