Recently, I took my four-year-old daughter fishing. We arrived at the secret fishing hole and set off to find an unoccupied spot. As we followed the wooded path near the calm water, I noticed a man lying in the underbrush. I thought perhaps he was sleeping, enjoying the natural scenery, meditating, etc. We reached our destination and cast the lines in the water, offering our bait of worms to the fish. Sitting on a rocky outcrop, we waited and watched our floaters in anticipation of a bite. Periodically, my daughter would ask “what is this?” or “what is that?” or “what is that person doing?”

I noticed movement out of the corner of my eye and saw that the man lying in the ground cover was actually a man and a woman. The couple was lying down, embracing. I re-focused my attention to the reason for being there: fishing with my daughter. A few minutes later, my lust kicked up and I cast a glance in the direction of the couple. Now the woman was on top and they were basically having sex with their clothes on. Immediately I felt uncomfortable. I felt fear that my daughter might see and ask questions. I felt anger because my boundaries (and hers!) were being violated. And I felt fear, shame, and guilt because a part of me wanted to watch the couple in their act or join them. I turned my back on the couple and positioned myself to block my daughter’s view of them. I looked again to see the woman still on top, and I was scared. I didn’t know what to do . . . leave, stay, yell, throw rocks at them, or kick them.

I picked up my cell phone and proceeded to call guys in the fellowship. After the fifth or sixth call, I reached a live person. I shared what was happening and that I did not know what to do. I also shared that the yappy voice in my head said “You have three-plus years of sobriety and you don’t know what to do?!? You stupid loser!” My friend gently reminded me that I was taking the necessary action: making a phone call. At this point I discovered I could breathe again. He reminded me that I came to fish with my daughter and that’s what I needed to do. Another deep breath. He helped me to see that other options were available—move to another spot or leave entirely. After saying goodbye, reluctantly I said a short prayer, asking God to bless and protect the couple. My daughter kissed me on the cheek and said “I love you, Daddy.” Then she hugged me and thanked me for taking her fishing. Sometime later, I really don’t know when, the couple left the area.

We continued to fish until it was almost dark and the quarter moon had risen. My daughter caught four healthy bluegills and I took photos of her with the fish. I don’t know which of us was more excited! The phone call with my friend, being outside in God’s creation, fishing with my daughter, and receiving her simple love—for this addict those are all part of making the real connection. My sponsor reminds me that the yappy voice lies; I am not a stupid loser. Thanks to God, once again, for doing for me what I could not do for myself. Thanks to each of you for reminding me that I never have to face anything alone again.