I can pray the fish are biting...

I live in a part of Dallas that has several little streams, or creeks, or rivers, or some kind of winding body of water that moves, if only slowly. At least some of them feed into the ponds in my neighborhood.

Regardless of size, shape, or purpose, these streams are in Dallas, the largest city in North Texas. I’m not talking about rivers out in the middle of nowhere, these are creeks with major roads going over them and huge building all around them.

You can imagine my surprise when I’m out, not two miles from my home, and I see a family fishing off a bridge that’s is on a pretty major road. There was a man, a woman, and a small child in a stroller. Come to think of it I never actually saw a child, but only a stroller. I suppose the stroller could have been their bait bucket or their tackle box. If I happen to see them again, I’ll try to do a more thorough job of observation.

That being said, as I sat waiting for the light to change and I watched the man cast his line out between the trees I was forced to wonder about the socioeconomic standings of my city. The buzz on the streets is that Dallas; or rather Texas in general, is faring quite well in these hard economic times. Relatively speaking.

I had to wonder: Are people living that close to me so hungry that their best option for a meal is fishing off a bridge in a creek that couldn’t have been more that five feet deep? If there are, why haven’t I noticed before?

Even as I’m writing that last sentence…I know that answer.

It’s not that I haven’t noticed, it’s that I choose not to see.

I drive by that same creek everyday. Every single day. Sure I would have noticed people fishing, but that’s about it. I’m quite certain that there is poverty and need all around me, but I live in my own little world, cut off from those things. Even if those things are right around the corner.

Driving back home about 45 minutes later they were still there. Only this time the man was giving a casting lesson to a man who wasn’t there on my first drive by.

They were laughing and seemed to be having a good time. That made me feel better.

I fought the temptation to go back and ask the man about fishing off a bridge. Only because every conversation starter I could come up with sounded hollow and fake. I didn’t want this man to think I was making fun of him, but that’s how everything I said in my head of made me feel.

I drove by again a few hours later and they were gone. I don’t know if I’ll ever see them again.

Who knows?

I also don’t know if or how this is going to change me. My hope is that it will change me, but I just don’t know how yet.

What I do know is the next time I see someone fishing off a bridge in the middle of a city I’m going to stop what I’m doing, close my eyes, and ask God to please let the fish be biting.