Fish for Supper

‘’Fish for Supper



It was June 1962; we were living in a tiny house just outside of Rosarito Beach, Baja California, Mexico. We lived so close to the Pacific that fog usually hid the sun until around 10:00 or 11:00 each morning. Today was different, I had been up for a while and the sun was bright and warm so I called to the sleeping children, “Get up and we’ll go to the beach.”

Bobby yawned and opened one eye. “We going to the beach?” he asked.

Mary stretched her long arms over her head and swung her big feet out on to the rough wood floor. “Great idea!” she said.

“Yea, let’s go,” Mary’s brother, Rudy answered. “Maybe we can catch a fish. I’d like fish for supper.”

“Okay, as soon as we eat breakfast and get our work done,” I answered.

Besides our four small children, three other teenagers were staying with us. Shirley Stice had been helping missionaries, Edith Cole and Ruby Marken on the Pai Pai Indian Reservation. They had gone out for the summer so Shirley had come to stay with us. Since school was out in California, Mary Ellen and her brother Rudy had also come to stay a month with us. This made nine in our family.

Mary had lived with us and helped care for our children when we lived in Orland, California. She felt right at home getting the children ready. She filled two baby bottles of milk, for Rosi, one for mid morning and one to carry to the beach. Then she served cereal of oats to Rosi, Tim and herself. Tim loved oats, with milk or without, but the instant he had satisfied his hunger, the bowl with the remaining oats, went on his head for a hat. Any oats left in the bowl stuck on his hair or dripped down his face onto his clothes. Mary knew Tim’s tricks, so she kept an eye on him while she fed Rosi.

Rudy and Bobby rolled up the sleeping rolls, and went outside to fill the two laundry tubs with water from the water barrel. We washed clothes every day. Washing was a back-breaking job and if we didn’t wash everyday it was almost impossible to get them all clean again. Besides that, we had only one clothesline on which to dry the wet clothes.

Shirley helped Tricia pick up toys and clothes and then she swept.

James had already gone to help Tomas Mendoza build himself a shack at the tomato ranch where Tomas worked. Tomas had committed his life to Christ at the Baptist church in town a few weeks before we moved to Rosarito. However, since meeting James the two were knit together like the Bible characters David and Jonathan. They saw each other almost every day.

When the tubs were filled, the girls went out to wash and Ruby and Bobby sat down to eat. “I don’t want oats,” Bobby whined. “We have oats every day.

“How about some fried potatoes,”

“No, we have then every day too.”

“Sorry that is all we have.”

“I’m so tired of oats, potatoes and split beans. Can’t we have something else?”

‘We‘ll have fish for supper,” Ruby said cheerfully.

“Then let’s go and catch the biggest fish in the world. Can Rudy and I go ahead?

“We better stay together. Come help the girls with the washing.”

When we finished washing, rinsing and hanging the clothes on the line, we started for the beach. Bobby and Rudy, with Tim on his shoulders lead the way. Mary carried Rosi, I held Tricia by the hand because she was afraid there were bugs or snakes in the grass. However, whenever she saw a pretty flower, she forgot about snakes and bugs and ran to pick the flower.

Blue water stretched out before us as far as we could see. I closed my eyes and listened to the sea-gulls calling, while I inhaled the fresh ocean breeze. “Oh, God,” I said in my heart, “You created this. You can do anything. Increase my faith.” I kicked off my shoes, and wiggled my toes down in the warm sand. It felt so-o-o good. The children and teenagers had already shed their shoes and were racing to the water. “Watch Tim,” I called, when I saw him toddling behind them toward the water’s edge, “The waves will knock him down.”

Mary raced for Tim. Holding Rosi in one arm, she grabbed him by the other just as a wave toppled him. He screamed. She carried him back to me. I cuddled his cold trembling body. “I no like.” he said. “It mean. It mean.” (It was several years before Tim would again wade in the ocean.)

I spread out the blanket I had brought and Mary sat Rosi on it, and ran to hunt for shells with Shirley and Tricia. Tim was soon building roads in the sand and driving shell cars over them. It was about time for Rosi’s nap so she was soon a sleep. I pulled her on her blanket under a bush to shade her from the sun.

Everyone was busy so I took the time to talk to God. “God, you know I am embarrassed to serve split beans, potatoes and oats to my guests every day. It has been a long time since we’ve had a salad, that would be such a treat. You created everything in this world, how about creating some better food for us. I don’t want these young folks to believe this is the way you always treat your workers. Aren’t we worth more than this? My children want a gallon of cold milk delivered to their home each day as it was when we lived in Orland. And I would like some fruit for them.” When I had finish complaining, I waited for an answer. God never spoke.. However, I soon felt a sting of reprove and repented of my complaints. Afterwards a warm pleasant feeling come over me and I began singing.




“Could we with ink the ocean fill?
And were the skies of parchment made;
Were every stalk on earth a quill
And every man a scribe by trade

To write the love of God above,
Would drain the ocean dry.
Nor could the scroll contain the whole
Though stretched from sky to sky.

Oh, love of God how rich and pure!
How measureless and strong
It shall forever more endure
The saints and angels song.”

I sang it over again, and again, and again. I wrote in big letters in the sand, “God is Love.” I felt God’s big arms around me. “I’m sorry God for doubting your love. I know you have a plan that I don’t see,” I said as I wrote.

I watched the children build homes, ranches and castles in the sand. “These will be destroyed by the rising tide,” I thought, “So it is with the homes, enterprises, bank accounts and any other thing we have upon this earth, it will all be destroyed before long by fire, as God told us in His Word. “The earth also and the works that are therein shall be burned up.” (II Peter 3:10)

After a while, Mary, Shirley and Tricia came bringing their arm full of shells. We talked about the different animal that God had made to live inside the shells. We talked about the vastness of the ocean, about the expansion of blue sky overhead. It was all so awesome, and then Mary began singing “When I look down from lofty mountains grander, and see the brook and feel the gentle breeze. Then sing my soul, ‘How great Thou art, how great thou art.” I joined her. Then Ruby and Bobby, tired of playing in the water came too, and we all sang what we could remember.

“I wish I had a fishing pole, I could catch a fish for supper,” Rudy said.

“Me, too,” said Bob. “We all want a fish.”

“Let’s dig clams,” I suggested. We did but we had only our hands to dig with and clams are deep, so all we dug up were sand diggers.

I supposed that the children were getting hungry by now, so suggested we go home to eat. The children quickly vetoed my suggestion and continued playing for several more hours until the sun was getting close to the horizon.

“We had better start for home” I called.”You are wet and will get very cold as soon as the sun is down.” As I was gathering up the few things we had brought, a car drove up. I had often wondered what I would do in self-defense with all my little children. I would not run and leave them unprotected, but today there were plenty of us we could protect each other. Besides the car was quite a distance from us. I wasn’t wearied until I saw two men walking toward me. As they came nearer, I saw they were carrying a fish. The boys saw it too and came running to tell me.

“There is our fish,” they said.

“Sell fish to you,” the man said when he neared us. “No sell today. Day very late must sell. For you just two dollars.”

“I would love to have the fish but I don’t have two dollars to pay for it,” I answered. The man acted as if he thought I was lying to him. He became angry; said words in Spanish that I didn’t understand and started walking away. My heart beat fast. Thoughts flashed through my mind. “Lord, please don’t disappoint us, here is a good time for you to show your love that’s more than the water in this ocean. We sure want that fish.” As suddenly as he had turned away, he turned around walked back and said, “I’ll give fish for money you have in pocket.”

We were all standing together by this time and were looking wishfully at the big fish. I held out my hand and said, “The man says he’ll trade the fish for the money we have. Let’s see how much we can raise. We all dug in our pockets. All together, they had seventeen cents.

The man became angrier. This time my heart skipped a beat. I thought for sure he was going away with his fish. Then God softened his heart and he said, “I take money. You take big fish.” He placed the fish carefully in my two out stretched hands and gave a little bow as if giving me a gift. Truly, it was a gift, for seventeen cents would not have paid for it fins, if he were selling them.

We held the fish beside six-year old, Bobby. It was the length that he was tall. We took turns carrying it home..

We cut it in pieces, gave portions to our neighbors. After we had eaten all we wanted, we rubbed salt into the remaining fish to preserve it and therefore ate fish the following day.

That night many families thanked God that they had, “Fish for Supper”!

--Charlotte Huskey