Remove The Barb

In an instant, thrill changed to horror. After watching Jaybird’s cane pole bending almost double and the line sawing through the water, I saw the shape of a huge fish emerging from the murky depths. Then, the monster crappie exploded on the surface, and the old black man reached to grab him. Suddenly, the fish threw the hook, and it flew straight into his outstretched hand.

“Oh, Lord, Jaybird, we’ve got to get to the doctor’s office right away!” I shrieked in my little boy voice. As calmly as if he had done no more than nick a finger, he said, “No we ain’t — de fish is bitin’. Dat stringer will be full fo’ we leave dis lake. You gwine take de hook out.” With trembling hands, I tried pushing the large hook back through the web of flesh between his thumb and forefinger. “No, son, dat’ll just make the wound worse.”

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So, I grabbed hold of the monofilament and was about to bite it just above the hook. “No, if you do dat, de hook’s eye will have to go through de wound.” Intentionally, Jaybird was forcing me through this agonizing trial and error process to teach me a life lesson: When faced with difficult choices requiring immediate action, remain calm and analyze the alternatives. Reacting in panic without thinking only makes bad situations worse. “Get dem wire cutters outen de tackle box and remove the barb,” he said. “I can’t do this, Jaybird,” I cried. “I’m scared I’ll hurt you!” Calmly, he continued gazing at me with those wise, penetrating, brown eyes. As I stared at his blood dripping into the bottom of the boat, panic paralyzed me. My hands were trembling so badly that I could barely hold the wire cutters, much less use them. Minutes ticked by as I prayed that the old man would take the tool from me and remove the hook himself. But, he just sat there, waiting patiently, even after tears began streaming down my cheeks. “Come on, boy,” he said. “Dey’s a bunch of fish out dere, just waitin’ to be caught.” Still, I could not move. Then he did what he had so often done in my young life — reassured me by placing a big strong hand on my shoulder and saying, “You kin do anything you set yo’ mind to.” As always, his strength strengthened me. Gently, I placed the wire cutters beneath the barb, snipped the hook, and removed it. Jaybird smiled proudly, wrapped the wounded hand in a bandana, and took up his pole as if nothing had happened. The lesson he taught me that day wasn’t clear until years later: It was all about the barb. When snared by the hooks of life, we human beings are often unable to remove the barb. It is then that we must ask for God’s help. The Father’s strong hand on His children’s shoulders always provides the needed strength. We will hear His reassuring voice saying, “Remove the barb.”