Gone fishin'

My cell phone rang as I was hurrying to get my kids and myself out the door and on to an engagement we had the other night, and I missed the call.
About twenty minutes later, I listened to my voice mail, and there was a message on there from Butch, saying he wanted to know if the kids would like to go fishing in the morning, and would I call him back to let him know.
Would my boys like to go fishing?!?
If you've read this blog at all recently, you'd know. . . YOU BET THEY"D LIKE TO GO FISHING!
Now, you've been introduced to Butch. If you don't remember, he's the hero in my post "VBS is here" (from June 2).
Butch and his wife, Leah, were the first people to invite us to dinner when we started attending the church we are a part of now.
It was our first Sunday, we were newly married and completely new to this part of the country (we hail from New Jersey and New York) and it was our first visit to the church.
After service, Butch and Leah invited us over their house for dinner later that evening.
I was dumbstruck.
"They don't even know us!" I breathed out to Joe on our way to the car.
"I know. Crazy." he said.
It was the last thing we expected, really.
We went to their house for dinner that night, and the rest is history.
But back to the story at hand.
The boys knew something was afoot from listening to my half of the conversation (they are always listening, those little guys) and when they got the whole story, they were dancing around the room, eyes wide.
"Are we really going, mom?" Josiah asked his, voice at fever pitch.
"Yes, yes!" I chuckled and rubbed his bobbing head.
"What do we need to bring? We have to go get new poles!" Isaac sputtered out.
"Call Butch and ask," I suggested.
They did.
He had everything they would need, so they could relax and anticipate their outing in the morning.
When I woke up, the boys were heading down the sidewalk to Butch's truck, and I stuck my head out the door to tell them I loved them and to have a great time.
Of course, while they were gone, I worried, as only a mom can, that they might fall into the water, or . . . whatever imaginable terrible thing that could happen to them might.
So, when Isaac opened the door several hours later and came running into the house to tell me that I had to come see the fish they caught, I was flooded with relief, and ready to see their catch.
And what a catch it was.
Isaac caught a 6 lb. catfish (we weighed it) and a smaller bass and Jo caught a good sized bass too.
Of course, I was so proud of them, and they were so proud of themselves and happy to present their fish.
Josiah, though, still does not want to touch them. He will only touch them with a . . . well, not quite a 10 foot pole.
Anyway, Joe filleted them and later that evening, Ryan cooked them.

I do not like fish very much, especially fresh water fish. I'm pretty much a seafood gal if I'm gonna eat the stuff. But this fish . . . it was so fresh and battered and spiced up just right, and it melted right in my mouth.
Isaac liked it.
Josiah . . . ""I'm never gonna eat fish again in my whole entire life!" he said. I guess he didn't like it so much.
It was such a good experience for the boys.
I believe it is something they will tuck in their pocketful of memories.
"Remember the time we went fishing with Butch and caught that catfish it took us 10 minutes to reel in? . . ."
It is one of many.
They are building up quite a little collection of stories, memories.
And I am too.
Bright little boys eyes gleaming, smell of outdoors on their skin, voices pitched with excitement, pond-y hands pulling me outside to "come and see." Heart proud of my little fishermen.
And many thanks to Butch, who once again was the hero of the story, and will be ever after in the little boys hearts of my sons.
On a side note, my computer has been giving me fits, and it may be sporadic around here until I can get it all worked out.