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# The Knot Hole in the Old Wooden Bridge

Circa 1958

This event happened over 50 years ago, but its effects will last forever. I was only 5 years old. My father decided to take me on my first fishing trip. We drove in the car to one of his favorite fishing places on a stream near an old wooden bridge. He patiently showed me how to bait the hook, how to cast the baited hook into the middle of the stream and how to slowly reel it back in to attract the attention of the trout that lived in the stream. He watched me try it a few times and then, satisfied that I had mastered the art, he went upstream a short distance to try his own luck with another fishing pole.

Now, Dad taught me well the mechanics of trying to catch a fish, but he didn’t mention that it required a lot of patience and a fair amount of diligent effort. After about 10 minutes of trying to catch a fish with no success, I began to get weary of doing the same thing over and over again. Many times my fishing line got tangled in the branches of the bushes by the stream. I thought surely there must be a better way to convince a fish to eat the tasty earthworm on my fishing hook. That is when I noticed the old wooden bridge.

I walked onto the old bridge and looked around. In one of the weathered old planks of the bridge I noticed a knot hole that was just big enough to lower my baited hook through it and into the water of the stream below. I was quite pleased with myself. This was so much easier than casting the hook from the shore of the stream.

Before long, a beautiful 12 inch long brook trout spied my bait and ended up firmly hooked on my fishing line. I was actually somewhat startled and began to reel in my line with great excitement. It soon became evident that my brilliant decision to use the knot hole was not so brilliant after all. The fish was simply too big to fit through the hole.

In my panic, I began to scream for my father to come help me. When my father perceived the nature of the dilemma, he realized he had a choice to make. He could either emphasize the stupidity of my decision or he could make a fond memory that would last a lifetime. Fortunately, he chose the latter. He waded into the water and retrieved my beautiful rainbow colored brook trout. His clothes were soaking wet clear up to his chest, but he was my hero that day. He reaffirmed his love for me even on those occasions when I was not in my best form. The lesson and the example are a part of me to this day.

What lessons of life are contained in this story? There are many. First, we should preserve these stories of our lives by writing them in a journal so they may be passed down to our posterity as a legacy of love for the gospel and its principles. Second, we should always maintain our worthiness to receive guidance from the Holy Ghost. He will help us make wise decisions on those occasions when we must choose how to react to difficult situations. Finally, we must never underestimate the power of our influence on others. Choices, which seem quite insignificant in the moment, might make an impression on someone else that will last a lifetime.