I am not a good fisherman. For one thing, I don't like slimy things, so touching worms and fish are out. Secondly, if the water is wavy, I'll probably puke. Lastly, it's supposed to be a quiet sport and I am not quiet. My husband loves fishing; he can get over my slime-aversion and even my puking, but he can't tolerate my scaring the fish away with constant chatter. Consequently, he's always claiming "there's not enough room in the boat" for me. It could be a cruise ship with his shadow as his only fishing buddy and there would just not be enough room.
My point is, I'm not a good at fishing for fish and that's ok. Sadly, I'm also not great at fishing for men as Jesus instructed us to do, and that's not ok. Case in point, last Saturday I had this conversation with the grocery store cashier:
Cashier: "What are you up to this weekend?"
Me: "Oh, just the usual, church tomorrow and then taking my daughter to hockey practice."
Cashier: "Church, huh? I gave up on that when I was twelve. My parents always took me to weird churches with creepy people."
Me: "That's so sad! I love my church." (Eeeeeek! What do I say?! How do I not freak this guy out?! How do I not freak out?! How many people are in line behind me?! Did he remember to scan my coupons?!)
Cashier: "I work Sundays anyway."
Me: "Oh. Welllll, our church has a Monday service." (Am I being pushy? Am I being pushy?!?!)
Cashier: "Really? I thought church was just a Sunday thing."
Me: "I think lots of churches know how hectic weekends can be and are starting to offer services during the week too." (I have never successfully talked a person into coming to church! Is this it? My first fish?! If he were a real fish, what kind would he be? A trout? Salmon? Focus! Focus!)
Cashier: "That'll be $125.47."
I paid up and took off. Without even mentioning my church's name. Duh. He was circling my worm and I just reeled in, or dropped my pole, or whatever best fits this little metaphor. Obviously, I have enlisted a team of women who shop at this grocery store A LOT and they'll be on the lookout for him. He's going to be so confused when all these SAHMs start coming in and laying hands on him! Just kidding. They're way better at fishing for men than I.
I guess I'll just keep trolling and hope I eventually get a bite. In any event, this involves much less slime and vomit, but lots of chatter! And that? I can do.