Reconnecting with the Sea

I haven't posted on this blog in almost six months. This post marks my third entry in about 5 days. Don't know what's up, I'm just running with it.

Last night I started reading America's Inland Waterway again. It was published by the National Geographic Society in 1973 and then again in paperback in 1983. My family was given a hardback copy signed by the photographer because there are pictures of my great-grandfather Stacy Guthrie in the book. That fact has always been a source of pride for the family. The book is basically a journal of the travels of a small sailing yacht up the Intracoastal Waterway. During part of that journey, the photographer stopped on Harkers Island and the rest is history.

The writer begins his journey in Massachusetts. On of his stops is New Bedford, where Herman Melville received his inspiration to write Moby Dick. As the writer details the emotional connection the locals have with the sea and their boats, I began to reminisce about my own childhood growing up in what was once a fishing village where everyone shared those same kind of connections. I find myself mourning for times lost. I experience naive and romantic notions of moving back home and somehow suddenly becoming an "old salt". I desire to immerse myself in knowledge of the history of my hometown so that I can reconnect with a lost heritage.

Our faith journeys often begin the same way. Something within our souls long to reconnect with something past. It's the calling of the Holy Spirit, inviting us to reconnect with our Creator and repairing the broken relationship severed thousands of years ago in the Garden. We can immerse ourselves in Him as he fills us with his presence. Fortunately for all of us, it's not just a romantic dream but a reality for all who believe.

A bag of juniper shavings

Thursday night the family and I enjoyed an evening at the NC State Fair where everything is deep fried, even the roller coaster. Besides the culinary delights and gastric disturbances, one of my favorite things to do is tour the exhibits that illustrate/demonstrate things from the good ol' days. That means the antique farm machinery and the Village of Yesteryear. In the "Village" we get to see modern craftsman spinning pots, carving wood, weaving baskets, and the like.

This year I discovered a new exhibit in the Village. I met Phoebe Briley, currently living in Marshallberg, NC, of Great Marsh Boatworks. She's a self proclaimed dingbatter who has fallen in love with the REAL Down East of NC and it's traditions, especially its boats. I was naturally drawn to Phoebe and her display because I am a native of Harkers Island. I grew up in the backyard of my great-grandfather Stacy Guthrie. Both he and his father, Devine Guthrie, are as famous for boatbuilding as they are for their character. In the picture of Stacy (or Poppy as he was known to me), you can see the hammer that is so special to our family.

Growing up in Poppy's backyard was special in many ways. Some of my earliest memories are of sitting on his lap and hearing the whaling stories. I would often get up before my mom and join him in the yard as a preschooler while he built boats. The wonderful smell of juniper, the wood of choice for boatbuilders, and its shavings still fills my mind.

As I stopped by to introduce myself to Phoebe, I noticed a collection of juniper shavings she had on display. They were labeled with a sign that looked like it came out of Alice in Wonderland. It said, "Smell the Shavings." I pointed them out to my son. I picked up a handful and began talking about how wonderful they smelled and the memories they invoked. After he enjoyed a big whiff himself, Phoebe grabbed a small paper bag and began to fill it with shavings. She handed me the bag and said, "Here, enjoy." It was one of the most wonderful parts of the fair to me.

Meeting Phoebe was special for many reasons. Besides getting a bag of shavings, I met someone who appreciates my heritage and how it is disappearing. I had an opportunity to share some special memories. My son was shown how important his own family is in the history of his "homeland" by someone other than his father. It was a blessing all the way around. And now, I have a bag of juniper shavings to smell anytime I need to be reminded of that blessing.

It's beginning to look a lot like . . .

We put our Christmas tree up this past weekend. I dislike the Christmas rush more than most people. I dislike seeing the trees and decor out on the shelves in September. I love the celebration of Christmas and all the warm fuzzies that come with it. But each year I grow a little colder and a little harder in response to the mainstream treatment of it.

It honestly felt weird to put the tree up. It did not help that is was seventy-two degrees outside. We ALWAYS put the tree up the weekend after Thanksgiving. This year it just seemed too early. I'm still glad we did it though. The boys had a great time and the tree is really more for them than it is for me. Once I put the cookies in the oven and the Christmas CD's in the stereo, my mood changed.

As we pulled each ornament out of its box, I got more and more into it. Every ornament has a story. Every ornament evokes a memory. My kids are getting old enough that now they are able to recall their own stories for each one, not just recite the ones they hear their mom and dad recite.

It's beginning to look a lot like . . . it always does. And that's why we do it. My wife and I decided early in our relationship (pre-marriage) that we wanted to establish some speacial traditions in our family. Tradition sounds like a strange word to come out of my mouth I know. I'm not talking about a stuck in a rut attitude that says we have to do it this way because we've always done it this way mentality. It's a "let's set some traditions to use as rituals and rites of passage to mark the passing of time."

The Christmas tree and the annual ornament shopping trip are just two of the traditions we observe. Every summer we try to spend a few days at the beach with GrandMa and GrandPa. The boys ride down with them as they pull the camper behind them. And that rounds out our set of annual things. We need more traditions to be honest. We have one "weekly" observance. Every Friday night is family night for us. The boys can count on us stopping everything else and devoting that time to them.

Traditions and rituals are important because they create an atmosphere where it is beginning to look like it always does. When you are on a faith journey, it's good to have a few traditional stops along the way. They allow you to reflect on past memories and the things God has done for you. They allow you to "reset" and remember what is important when your life gets out of kilter.

A good weekly tradition is attending worship service with other folks on a faith journey. My faith journey has the typical traditions that are part of the usual faith observance - Christmas, Easter, sometimes Pentecost. Others are things like going to camp every summer. I have important decisions I have made on my journey and decisions my children have made on their own journeys in my PDA. When those dates comes around, I'm reminded of what happened "when. . ."

It's beginning to look a lot like it always does in my house. That's a good thing.