Vacation Edition: August 2009

Hello dear ones!

This edition comes to you from the “gazee-deck” (not quite gazebo, not quite deck…the best of both!) at Croft Alden, just south of Hague, New York. Directly to the east, Lake George is barely visible, screened by a tall stand of pine and cedar. I can almost hear the water lapping on the shore. The sun has risen on a cool and bright August morning, and the deranged songbird outside my window insisted that I should get up and see this daily miracle for myself. He was quite correct—it is a beautiful sight.

In my lexicon “going to the water” is synonymous with rest and restoration. Growing up I spent summers on the Texas Gulf Coast, at a house that no longer exists, save in blessed memory, getting sunburned, playing in the surf and digging in the sand, reading ancient comic books and listening to Waylon and Willie and the boys, and eating icy-cold watermelon and sweet corn from the farm stand down the road. The house had no air conditioning, but with windows in all the exterior walls and ceiling fans in every room, it didn’t need it. We heard the sound of the wind and waves; we felt the breeze off the water (so much so that you actually wanted a quilt at night, even in high summer), we smelled the salt air and cut grass, and occasionally the “ew-ick” of a fish that had been left on the shore to decompose.

This time apart—this Sabbath here at the lake in New York—has been much anticipated and welcomed. We will leave two days hence, returning to our new place at Jubilee House, where we will continue to unpack and “make ourselves at home.” School starts again very soon (and already has, for some of us) and I will be beavering away on my great project that leads to “The Rev. Dr.” on my business cards.

The last few months have been something of a rollercoaster ride, but we seem to have come through with only a few chips and scratches. To all of you (and you know who you are) who have helped us in this time of transition and uncertainty, through your prayers and good will, and through offers of assistance of all kinds—may the Almighty return to you double those things which you have shared with us. We have been “bathed in grace” in these days, and the waters of this glorious lake have reminded me of that truth. “I will lift up mine eyes to the hills, from whence cometh my help.”

See you on the porch!