The Bell Buoy

Ask my husband, Jim, about our family excursion to Maine's Monhegan Island and his face will instantly turn pasty white and he will double over clenching his stomach.

We had made this trip before on the Hardy Boat so we thought is would be fun to take our girls to the island that had barely any cars and only about 200 year round residents. Hiking trails ran along the ocean and green, brown and blue sea glass peppered the shore.  A lighthouse was at the peak of the island and with a few summer artisan gift shops. All in all it promised to be a good day.

We grabbed our tickets, sweatshirts, jackets and sensible shoes for climbing on the jagged rocks along the sea coast, ran down the dock and climbed on the boat.  The sky was a bit overcast but as they say in Maine, "if you don't like the weather, wait a minute," so we forged ahead.

The boat loaded with folks "from away" fired up it's engines and slowly left the harbor.  As soon as we cleared the harbor markers the captain revved up the boat's speed and we were on our way.  Jim and the girls went to the upper deck to get the full views.  My aunts and I, choosing the more cautious route, stayed down on the first deck.

As we hit open seas, black clouds rolled in and it began to rain.  The more the rain kicked up more the Hardy Boat began to rock--back and forth, back and forth.  In seconds my "upper deck" family appeared to get out of the rain and to try and get their bearings.  The captain came on over the loud speaker saying, "keep your eyes on the horizon," but the boat was listing so deep and the swells were so high, there was no horizon.  Needless to say our family was lined up along the side of the boat. And Jim's only comment was, "that was a waste of a perfectly good blueberry muffin!"

We spent a miserable day on the island.  The storm did not pass and we knew in a few hours we had to make the return "voyage."  When the time came we walked to the dock and tried to muster up our courage to cross the bouncing gangplank onto the boat.  Finally we sat down and huddled under blankets anticipating the trip back to shore.

Fog, rain, wind, and huge waves were our only focus of what seemed like an endless trip. Fearful thoughts ran through our minds.  Did the captain know how to navigate this weather?  Were we going to make it back safely?  How could the boat's crew possibly tell where we were?

After an excruciating hour of being churned about on the sea, we heard the gentle, calm rocking sound of the harbor buoy.  We were "home!"  We had made it!  The sound guided the captain into the harbor loaded with docked lobstermen's boat.  He expertly brought the rocking Hardy Boat to rest.  We were safe.

We have learned that each harbor has it's own buoy with it's own bell.  In the midst of darkness or storm or fog a captain can tell where he is by the sound of the bell.  He must know his bell's sound or he will be lost.

This year I have been tossed and churned about.  In the midst of fear and anxiousness,  I'm learning the sound of my Heavenly Father's voice who will guide me into safe harbor.

                           

Tantrums

"Sweetheart, I have to run out to the grocery store.  Why don't you grab your jacket and come with me."

My young daughter dressed in her Saturday play clothes--green corduroy overalls, a white turtleneck with flowers printed all over it, navy blue leather mary jane shoes, and a green ribbon bow tied around her topknot--did not take to my plan at all.

"I don't want to go.  I hate the grocery store.  I want to stay home with Daddy.  I'm not going!" she said forcefully as she punctuated her statements with a solid stamp of her little blue shoe.

I tried to coax and cajole her to come with me.  In the midst of the all the messy back-and-forth words, I didn't want to tell her that her best friend's mother had called to ask if she could come and play. I wanted to surprise her.  I wanted to bless her but because she thought she knew what was happening she dug her heels in and nearly missed the blessing.   My six year old did not trust that I was thinking of her, that I had her best interest in mind.

This year I've been asked to follow God unconditionally into places I haven't wanted to go--physically and emotionally painful and frightening places . I've been weak and indulgent in self-pity.  "What are you thinking, God?  Where is your fatherhood?"   I have stomped my feet (best that I could with two broken ankles) and through my tantrums I have told my Heavenly Father, "I don't want to go with you!"  I have not always trusted that He has my best interest in mind and as a result I'm sure I have interfered with His blessings.

In the Old Testament book of Jeremiah God states,  "I have loved you with an everlasting love; I have drawn you with unfailing kindness."  As I walk on with my Heavenly Father, will I have to courage to believe His words are true, to let go of questioning His goodness?

Erasers

As a little girl in third grade wearing a polyester aqua plaid skirt with a shirt and knee socks to match, it was my week to stay after school and clean the slate black board and erasers. Truthfully for a wild, curly haired young girl wearing brown corrective shoes, this was my favorite job to get of all the chores on the Jobs List.

Every day for a week I got one-on-one attention from my teacher; and every day for a week I got to make order out of chaos, both things that were needed in my early life. When the big hand on the large round classroom clock moved around to 3:10 pm, it was time to snap into action.  On my tippy toes I would begin at the top of the board and erase the day's math, science and homework assignments away.  I worked until there was no trace of the past.  Then to complete the task I would put my jacket on, grab up the two gray felt erasers, head down the wide stairwell, and out the large front doors.  There I would clap those erasers together with all my might.  I clapped and clapped until the poofs of chalk dust were gone.

Back upstairs I beamed at a job well done, knowing the next day could begin with a clean slate--a fresh start, a new beginning.  Certainly our Heavenly Father has the same love of fresh starts--Christmas is about giving mankind a second chance; Easter is about giving humankind a clean slate.  Yet our God knew we could not wait for months for a do-over so He designed daily new beginnings.  In the Old Testament book of Lamentations it speaks of God's mercies being new every morning.

As this new year rolls around, erase the old and with your Heavenly Father's help welcome the new fresh start.