Today is Labor Day. I get melancholy at the thought of summer’s
end. Here on the shores of Lake Michigan it is like a switch is flipped and fall
begins the day after Labor Day. School
starts, cottagers pack up and return to their homesteads, the weather cools and
leaves dare begin their fall. Oh, we’ll have some beautiful days yet, even some
beach days. But it is definitely the end
of the lazy days of summer. Do you see
the tear-drop stains on the page?
Sitting on the beach, I
reminisced over many of the Labor Days during our fifteen years of living on Lake Michigan.
Some were filled with the company of family and friends. Others spent in quiet recuperation from the
company of family and friends.
The most memorable holiday
weekend was the one that my husband Wayne took a couple of our guests for an exhilarating ride in the speedy little jet boat. Traveling at a thrill-seeking
speed…wave hits sideways…capsized…passengers…flung…the boat righted itself…sped
off…tread water…gasping…tether…life jackets…Coast Guard…angels…Well, that is a
story for another posting.
Right now from my beach chair
I watch Wayne
board the kayak (a bit slower and safer than a jet boat) and head out over the
waters. The smooth wave action gives
just enough lilt to the kayak that I can sense the motion reflected in my own
body.
If Lake
Michigan was your playground as a child, the sensation of the
waves raising your body up and your feet off the sandy floor of the lake never
leaves you. It can be created in a
nighttime dream or in summer repose far from the shores and beaches. But it has its greatest power when you look
out over the vast lake and see the waves roll in, break open on the sand bar
and lick the beach with a natural rhythm.
It doesn’t matter your age;
the draw of the Lake is so strong that you
leave your umbrella-shaded chaise, the captivating plot of your current novel,
and brace your body against those first shockingly cold waves.
I observed four middle-aged
women descend the stairs to the beach.
They dropped their towels and without hesitation walked into the
water. It wasn’t long before they were
in the water up to their necks, riding the waves together. They probably acted much like they had as
young girls. I watched them with humor,
recognizing how enticing and energizing riding the waves is. We never out grow it.
My challenge is that the
water is never quite warm enough and my body is not willing to endure the
chill. So I often sit and reminisce
instead.
One summer day, Wayne announced, “The
waves are perfect and the water won’t get any warmer than it is now.” I determined to get into them.
When I reached the water, it
was too cold on my feet to coax any more of my body into it. So I decided to walk the beach. Perhaps by the time I returned the water
temperature would feel differently to me.
The walk made me sweaty, but I still couldn’t get into the lake. So I settled
in my chaise and watched the rolling and then breaking waves. After a few minutes I couldn’t take it any
more and I determinedly walked into the water.
I didn’t stop until I got to a place where I could dunk my whole body,
enduring and ending the initial shock.
From that point on it was
sheer ecstasy! Soon I was reveling in Lake Michigan.
Total joy and merriment! I wasn’t satisfied with the current wave, but
was looking forward and reaching out to the on-coming one, a little bigger,
more powerful than the last. I started
singing,
“Launch out into the
deep. Let the shore line go. Launch out,
Launch out in the ocean divine, Out where the full tides flow.[1]”
I was frolicking in the water
and it was easy to imagine God frolicking with me. I sensed his delight in my
enjoyment. It seemed he created the experience just for me. I was secure in his playground and pushing my
limits. Like any child in the rapture of
such a moment, I didn’t want it to end.
It was a perfect time for Him and me! I don’t know if I will ever
experience anything like that again, but it was wonderful to experience it
then. I left the waters thinking that
frolicking with God is supposed to be a common experience. Certainly more common
than once in 64 years! The memory makes
me smile.
One of the great comforts of living on the bluffs over-looking Lake Michigan is that my summer extends past Labor Day. While others pack away their beach bags and umbrellas, leaving summer behind, I continue to enjoy the sound of waves, the awe-inspiring sunsets, the moon glistening on the water, the sun-heated sand that warms my feet even after the first Monday in September.
Today I climb the stairs up
the bluff. There are 62 steps. I know,
because I count every time I tackle them. This is my last Labor Day living on Lake Michigan.
We’ve sold our home[2]. I’m sad, but I look at it like this: The wave I’ve been riding is great fun, but
there is another wave coming and though it is undefined, I instinctively reach
out for it. It may lift my feet off the
sandbar, it may dunk my head under water, but it is irresistible. It could be the best wave yet and I must
launch into it.
[1] Launch Out Into
the Deep
The mercy of God is an ocean
divine
A boundless and fathomless
flood
Launch out in the deep
Cut away the shore line
And be lost in the fullness of
God
But many alas only stand on
the shore
And gaze on the ocean so wide
They never have venture
Its depths to explore
Or to launch on the fathomless
tide
And others just venture away
from the land
And linger so near to the
shore
That the surf and the slime
That be over the strand
Dash over them in floods
evermore
Oh let us launch out
On this ocean so broad
Where floods of salvation ever
flow
Oh let us be lost
In the mercy of God
Til the depths of his fullness
we know
Launch out Launch out in the
deep
Oh let the shoreline go
Launch out Launch out in the
ocean divine
Out where the full tides flow
[2] I’ve learned not to be metaphorical but very concrete
and direct in my writing. I discovered
this in my first blog posting “Prognosis.”J
