Category: Travels

            “Gates appeal to me because of the negative space they allow. They can be closed but at the same time they allow the seasons and breezes to enter and flow. They can shut you out or shut you in. And in some ways there is no difference.”—Bob Dylan

              “Sometimes the door closes for us so we might turn and see an open gate to a wider field of opportunity.”—Brendon Burchard

As I made my way back across campus, the early evening sun was angling low on the horizon. The dark clouds, that had earlier seemed full of the promise of a downpour, had passed on, allowing a golden light, the color of a light beer, to flow over the mountainside as if pouring from a tap. It is my favorite type of sunlight, and normally, this type of sundown glow over rolling ancient mountains would fill my being with abundant joy. And yet . . .

Walking down the steep incline, I saw it there—the black, wrought iron double gate–complete with a spear point top situated perfectly in the center—was now closed. Only moments earlier, it had been opened. First-year students, some giggling, some talking, and others quietly observant, had streamed through this gate following the ornately robed staff and faculty that led from the opposite side of the gate. The entire procession made its way up the rise and into the inner courtyard of Old Main, a grand piece of Gothic Revival architecture dating back to 1858. It was a deeply symbolical gesture.

Staring at the old black gates, my heart began to beat rapidly, my throat filled with the now familiar lump that had been making frequent appearances over the past few days, and my head felt pained from the emotions I was withholding behind my own figurative gate. Less than 60 minutes ago, I stood there. Less than 60 minutes ago, she walked past me. Less than 60 minutes ago, I still had a child at home. Less than 60 minutes ago, the Matriculation Convocation of Bethany College began with the sounds of a mournful, lone bagpipe tune. Time, time, time.

Maddie & one of her roommates, Tatum, joining in on the group picture of the class of 2021.

Maddie & Tatum line up for Matriculation.

The class of 2021 line up for Matriculation.

Historically, the word wrought comes from the past tense form of the verb, to work. As English evolved and changed over the years, the word, worked, became the past tense form of, to work. Thus, the word, wrought iron, in a literal sense, means worked iron.

Before the development of modern steel making, wrought iron was the most common form of malleable iron. In addition to its manipulability, it was also valued for it toughness. Therefore, wrought iron could be fashioned into original and striking pieces that were, and still are, ornamental, functional, and lasting. This combination made it quite coveted, historically, for thousands of years. In fact, at one time, blacksmiths, often apprenticed in the art of crafting wrought iron, were highly sought after and often considered on par with doctors within their communities. Therefore, I found it quite fitting that the first-year students walked through wrought-iron gates.

To begin, there is the obvious visual. Symbolically, students walked through the gates parting ways with childhood. They were taking leave from the familiarity of family, friends, school, community, and so forth, while crossing into a universe full of unknowns–fresh starts, new friends, new routines, more autonomy, less dependence, and a world of possibilities, one that requires more intrinsic drive.

Matriculation began with a single, lonesome bagpipe tune.

Maddie & her friend, Celeste, walk past in the Matriculation entrance of first year students.

Maddie walks past in the Matriculation of first year Bethany students.

Secondly, it was signal to parents as well. The gates to the former stage of parenthood were forever closed. No longer were parents charged with the day-to-day care of their child. No longer were parents involved in their routine goings and comings. Instead, parents must trust that those 18 years of influence have fully prepared the now pseudo-adult child with the skills needed to choose wisely, the drive to continue to learn and grow, as well as the inter- and intra-personal dexterity to positively connect with others and within.

Lastly, the faculty and staff leading from the opposite side of the gate was no accident. These unknown humans are now charged with the job of community blacksmith to these highly pliable, but hopefully resilient, students. College, with its rigorous coursework, varied requirements, and countless opportunities, will undoubtedly being to form and fashion much of the students’ cast, but not all of it. Life experiences, encounters, and personal choices will also imprint and imbue the early shape of their life.

And so I stood there . . . alone . . .looking at the closed wrought-iron gate with its widely spaced black bars. No child was going home with me. The great unknown looming before me. In many ways, it felt as if I had just experienced the pain of childbirth—a pain that is necessary in order to help God deliver a new life, a new bundle of joy into the world. Only, this time, the infant was not the one crying, and would not be going home with the parents.

As parents, God entrusted my husband and me with the guardianship of our beautiful daughter, Madelyn. Now, Divine Providence has closed these gates; however, the new gates He now places before us, with widely spaced bars, allow for new seasons of parenting to enter and flow. Furthermore, these gates allow air to pass through—just as His presence flows to all. Our kid is God’s kid, and for that matter, so are John and I. We are not alone, and neither is she.

            “Halloween and hills (lots of them); burritos and bagels; squirrels and shuffles; brick streets and parking meters; East, West, South, and College Green; Court Street; Athens, Ohio”—as seen on a sign hanging in a store on Court Street in Athens, Ohio

          “Enjoy your first year. No, really. I know it will be hard, but enjoy it.”—Scott Musick, my brother, offering college advice to my daughter, Madelyn.

We arrived at campus early on a Saturday morning in August of 1984. I was eager to get started on a new college journey at Ohio University in Athens, Ohio. I had spent the prior year attending, “The Branch,” as it used to be called, of Ohio University in Ironton, Ohio, while also working close to full time, 37-39 hours per week, at the local McDonald’s

Many 18-year olds struggle to adjust to that first year of college, and I was certainly no exception. My job required a wake-up time ranging from 3:00 a.m. to 4:30 a.m., depending upon the shift I was working. Furthermore, I was not a so-called, night owl. Therefore, going to classes in the evening, from 5:00-10:00 pm, combined with my early morning start, was not the most conducive way for me to begin my college experience. Add to those facts, that most students in class with me during that time period were 10-20 years older; and needless to say, I was all out of sorts during that first year. Thus, I was ready for a change–a chance to start over, so-to-speak.

Driving the steep bricked streets of Athens towards my East Green dorm, my heart was pounding wildly with excitement. I didn’t notice that we were one of only a few cars arriving. I had not yet learned, as a general rule, college students do not rise early on a Saturday morning—even the morning of move-in day.

Looking up Court Street.

This was the first time I ever saw a diagonal cross-walk for pedestrians!

How many times did I pass under this entrance to College Green.

Naively, and optimistically, I walked with my parents into the dorm. No one else was entering the building, but, hey, that’s called good timing, right? As it turned out, my roommate, Susan, an international student from Singapore, had arrived a week or so prior to my entrance. Like me, she was a sophomore; however, unlike me, this was her second year living on-campus in Athens.

Art along the streets of Athens, Ohio.

Art along the streets of Athens, Ohio.

Susan, I soon learned—along with my parents—had a boyfriend. Despite the fact I had written a letter to her stating when I would arrive, she must not have expected me so early as the door was locked when my parents and me tried to enter my dorm room. Yes, Dear Reader, you have probably figured out the rest of the scenario by now. . . . After much knocking, and eventually assistance from the Resident Director, a sheepish and sleepy Susan, as well as boyfriend, ultimately welcomed my parents and me to OU. Needless to say, the next couple of hours were awkward, but made for a memorable learning experience!

College Bookstore in Athens, Ohio–home to Ohio University.

College Green of Ohio University.

A favorite meeting spot on the campus of Ohio University in Athens, Ohio.

I find myself reflecting upon eye-opening college experiences, such as that story, as John, my husband, and me, prepare to take our daughter, Madelyn, to Bethany College, four hours away from our home, for her first year of university life.  What will her move-in day be like? What types of experiences will she encounter? What classes will she take? What new friends will she make? How often will we see her? What degree will she ultimately earn? In fact, these queries are quite similar to the questions I asked myself as I walked across campus on that first day at OU after Mom and Dad left my side in 1984.

Maddie in front of Bethany College gates that are only open to students to enter at the beginning of their freshman year; and again, upon the day of their graduation. Maddie will be walking through this gate during the last week of August 2017.

Bethany College on a sunny, winter day.

Recently, I had the opportunity to return to Athens along with John and Maddie. I felt quite nostalgic as I walked the familiar, inclined brick streets of long ago. Much had, of course, changed; and yet, much had remained the same. However, as I tried to share some of my college stories and experiences with Maddie, I began to sense she wasn’t all that interested. Oh, she was polite enough, but it seemed, my stories were old and dated, like the few articles of clothing I still have from that time period. That is when it hit me.

Me, John, and Maddie in Athens, Ohio during the first week of August–just weeks before Maddie will enter Bethany College.

Maddie, my mom, Dolores Scherer, and my stepfather, Jim Scherer, in Athens, Ohio home of Ohio University from where I graduated.

Me, Maddie, John, Jim, Mom, Scott, and Roger sitting at Casa Nueva in Athens, Ohio–just weeks before Maddie left for college.

As much as I want to prepare my dear daughter for college by sharing my stories/experiences from those long ago days, they are not relatable to her because she has neither started college, and certainly will not be attending OU, nor is it the same time period, same living circumstances, or same generation. I cannot tell Maddie how great, how hard, how inspiring, how funny, how challenging, or how anything else college will be, because she has to experience it for herself in her own way. Furthermore, she is no longer the “little girl” who hangs on to every word I tell her. (If I am truthful, she hasn’t hung on to my every word for a while now!) She has her own thoughts and ideas, thank you very much; and, no doubt, these will evolve and change, but that is for her to decipher—not me. It is a natural part of her development that I need to honor, and let it play out in its own way and time.

A personalized sign greeting us on our first visit to Bethany College during November 2015–during Maddie’s junior year of high school.

Maddie during our first visit to Bethany College in November of 2015.

In fact, just as I moved into a new life phase (or two) when I graduated from high school and began college; so too will Madelyn. And, just like all the other phases in my daughter’s development, there still won’t be a parents’ handbook on how to perfectly navigate these new streets. Therefore, I am going to have to rely on faith, the experience of others, and listen to that still-inner voice guiding me—praying that it is also guiding her too.

Maddie and me at Bethany in the spring of 2017.

John and Maddie just before graduation in May of 2017.

One thing I know for sure, Maddie is a great kid. She is far better, smarter, and with-it than I ever was at the age of 18. I’d like to think John and me had a little bit to do with that, but we cannot take full credit as she’s also been blessed with numerous positive adult influences including family, teachers, pastors, and friends.

On the campus of Bethany College in December of 2016, during her senior year of high school–just before a scholarship interview.

John, Maddie, and me eating dinner together the night before a college visit to Bethany,

Therefore, I pray that Bethany College will offer more of those quality mentors to guide Madelyn. May she have friends that are a positive influence surrounding her. May she learn from her experiences, but also may those experiences be more positive than harsh. May she continue to learn and grow in knowledge and as a person, but may she remain as compassionate and thoughtful as she is now. May she discover her true calling and passion. And, may she rest assured on the fact that mom and dad are still here, cheering her on, and loving her more than ever as she transitions into adulthood.   Oh, and one more wish, may her move-in day be memorable for reasons far different than my first move-in day!

Madelyn’s grand adventure at Bethany begins August 24, 2017.

            “True navigation begins in the human heart.  It’s the most important map of all.”—Elizabeth Kapu’uwailani Lindsey

            “It finally happened.  I got the GPS lady so confused, she said, ‘In one-quarter mile, make a legal stop and ask directions.’”—Robert Brault

            “Uh, oh,” I heard my husband, John say.  It’s the tone in his voice that jolted my attention out of the book in which I was reading.

            “I think I missed a turn,” his voice was filled with dread.

            I recalled looking up at a sign as John made a turn, thinking, “Hmm . . .this doesn’t feel right.”  However, I did not speak up because I figured I was wrong—just a crazy notion because we were traveling a new route.

            Then, John pointed out that all of the road signs were in now French.  Oh boy, something was certainly wrong, and I felt horribly because I had been reading rather than looking at a map of New Brunswick in order to help John navigate.

You know when signs are all in French, you’ve made a wrong turn!

You know when signs are all in French, you’ve made a wrong turn!

            We were traveling home from a two-week stay in New Brunswick, Canada—the only officially bi-lingual Province.  While driving in New Brunswick, all road signs were labeled both in English and French.  The fact that road signs were now solely French could mean only one thing; we had inadvertently crossed into Quebec!

            While we had been using our car’s navigation system, it gets a bit wonky when traveling through remote areas or out of the country, and we were doing both. Therefore, we could only see the image of the road over which were traveling.  Typically, we rely on a map app on our phone when traveling.  Unfortunately, our phone company, which allows us to call Canada without any extra cost, triples and quadruples the cost of our phone use if we are in Canada trying to call/text to the U.S. or access cellular data. Thus, we turn our phones to airplane-mode when in Canada, rendering our phones unable to access apps without wifi—which our car does not have.

When traveling through New Brunswick, Canada, all signs are in both French and English!

When traveling through New Brunswick, Canada, all signs are in both French and English!

            Ultimately, we were able to find a safe place to turn around, stop, and look at our map.  It was at that singular moment, I knew that Divine Providence was providing me with a lesson.

            GPS navigation systems are great, but the image we see, especially when driving, is often quite small and out of context of the bigger map picture.  Further, GPS will usually get you there; however, it doesn’t replace experience, which often informs us of faster routes, less congested roads, and so forth.  Finally, a GPS system often emphasizes details rather than the big relational pictures such as borders.  Thus, the big take away is that we receive three benefits when a GPS in conjunction with a map.

            Isolation vs. Context.  When viewing our car’s navigation screen, we can only see the isolated route in which our car is traveling.  The overall context of the route, the roads from which we came, as well as the roads in which we will travel, are not visible.  However, looking over a map reveals the context of the entire route.

            This often happens in life.  For example, news blurbs, co-workers, or even loved ones, may focus upon, or share, one phrase or one point a person states in isolation, rather than reveal the entire context in which the words were spoken or written.  Likewise, well-meaning Christians sometimes use one Bible verse to support a certain belief or rule, rather than viewing that Bible verse within the context of the chapter, book, intended audience, or even time period in which it was written.

            Of course, there are many beautiful, singular phrases, quotes, and Bible verses from which there is much to be gained—I often use these to support and inspire my own writing, thinking, and speaking.  However, it worth remembering and taking time to view, or listen, to the full context in which both written and spoken words are derive, just as it would have benefitted John if I had been looking at the full map while he used the navigation screen.

            Inexperience vs. Experience.  When using a GPS or a map, you are choosing to rely another’s judgment or knowledge regarding which route, turn, or direction to travel.  This is especially true if when traveling to a new location.  It is often interesting to note that once the lay-of-the land in a new area is learned, we begin to realize better or faster roads/turns in which to take in order to arrive at a given destination.  This can only happen, however, with driving experience.

            Likewise, in life, when starting a new job, task, class, and so forth, we often choose to rely on the knowledge of others to inform our decision-making.  This mentoring is, of course, useful and quite valid; however, it is important to allow experiences, combined with the knowledge of others, to teach and affect the way in which we ultimately perform, make choices, and live our lives.   Further, it is often even more important to consider the internal, Divine voice offering valuable guidance.  Just as I should have listened to the inner voice that told me we were probably making a wrong turn, so too, should we listen to God’s guidance.

            Big Picture vs. Details.  Finally, the GPS navigation system does not reveal the broad picture of the full traveling route—only that route in which you need to be traveling at that moment.  Whereas, a map usually has the ability to reveal the entire route including borders, times zones, bodies of water, and so forth.  A map, however, does not possess the smaller details of exit numbers, upon what side of the road those exits will occur, etc. Certainly, though, if I had had that map open when we were traveling, in addition to the GPS image of the route number, I could have looked at the big picture.  I might have observed that even though we were indeed on the correct route, the signs for upcoming towns were the opposite direction of where we needed to drive.

            Similarly, in order to navigate life, sometimes we have to have a clear image of the grand scheme of our life’s direction.  Of course, it can be argued the importance of “one step at a time, one day at a time”– our life needs an ultimate direction/purpose/goal in which to direct those smaller, day-by-day turns.

The lesson of the GPS vs. paper map is this:  In order to navigate life, we need to not view all events in isolation, but within context of our life. (In the grand scheme of a two long days of driving, adding one extra hour due to our mistake was not that big of a deal.) Secondly, while a new adventure is always exciting, there is nothing like life-experience to inform our future choices.  (If we ever travel that same route, do you think we will make that same wrong turn again?)   Lastly, there is great benefit in taking life one day at a time; however, it is important to keep the big picture, the goal of our life, in mind. (Once we realized we were headed in the wrong direction, we turned around, and got back on our target route.)    The Divine Director will guide our life journey, but we must choose rely on this ultimate guidance.

            “We need to find God, and he cannot be found in noise and restlessness. God is the friend of silence. See how nature—trees, flowers, grass—grows in silence; see the stars, the moon, and the sun, how they move in silence . . .We need silence to be able to touch souls.”—Mother Teresa

“Sea glass is symbolic of the magic of transformation.”—Unknown

“Look how much I found!”

Her voice was insistent as she entered through the sliding glass doors and into the living area of the summer cottage in which we vacationed for two weeks along the Bay of Chaleur in Petit Rocher, New Brunswick, Canada. Her face was flushed red; eyes sparkled with exhilaration. Her friend, Gracie, whose face was just as crimson, followed her.

“I taught Gracie how to look for it!”

Spreading their loot across the kitchen table, they began sorting by colors: green, white, brown, and one blue.

“I found this cool rock, too!”

Madelyn, my daughter, placed a heart-shaped rock alongside the colorful sea glass they had collected. Then, seemingly, without thought, she began arranging the sea glass around the heart-rock in an aesthetically appealing rotating circular shape as she chatted about the bracing winds, the rocky shoreline, and the chilly, damp air. She smiled as she meticulously constructed her creation–though I do not think she realized she was doing this.

Sea glass is, in actuality, discarded trash. Before the proliferation of plastics as popular storage vessels, most liquids and creams were housed in glass bottles. In fact, I can still fondly recall the small 10-ounce green bottles of Mountain Dew, the blue Noxzema glass jars, the red Avon decorative glass goblets, the brown glass bottles that held Mrs. Butterworth’s pancake syrup, and the clear, tall 16-ounce Pepsi-Cola glass bottles of my youth.   All of these various glass bottles, and many others during this time period, were often carelessly dumped into our streams, rivers, and oceans; or, buried in the sand along the shore with little thought.

Once in the ocean, these containers were tossed about in the waves like a colorful mixed green salad. As the waves violently thrashed the bottles against rocks, ocean floor, and various other inflexible objects, they were sharply broken down into smaller pieces, each with a unique shape. Eventually, the edges of these pieces were worn smooth, giving the glass found today a frosted and/or pitted quality.

In fact, many sea glass jewelry makers consider sea glass a “reverse gem”. Traditional gems are created by nature, but refined by humans. Whereas, sea glass is created by humans; but then, transformed by nature.

Today, with the increasing use of plastics and numerous recycling programs, sea glass is becoming more difficult to find. I suppose that is part of the fun for Maddie–the challenge of spying scarce, multihued gems peaking through the milieu of rocks, pebbles, shells and other flotsam found along the shoreline. Perhaps, though, there is more to it.

Maddie and Gracie strike a pose once they realized I was taking candid pictures of them as they made their way along the Bay of Chaleur.

Maddie, in foreground, picks up sea glass. While Gracie, in the background, looks towards the Bay of Choler.

Walking along the craggy shoreline of the Bay of Chaleur one day, I became totally immersed in the search for sea glass. My intention, when I left the cottage, was to enjoy a brisk walk along the bay’s edge, but with the sighting of one piece of green sea glass, briskness was set aside; and instead, all of my focus and energy was directed towards hunting for sea glass for Maddie. Earnestly searching for sea glass emptied my mind of all thoughts, allowing my vision to fully focus as I pursued multicolored oddities amidst shoreline debris. My breathing and heart rates were notably slower, and time was measured only by the present moment.

The craggy shoreline of the Bay of Chaleur.

My intent was a brisk walk along the shore, but with my first sea glass sighting, I was hooked.

Occasionally, I noticed an abandoned house, a group of playful sea birds, or a passing sailboat; but then, my vision would return to my shoreline quest. During that walk, my mind was not attached to current worries, past failures, or future concerns—there was just the background sound of lapping water and the possibility of sea glass. Thus, I became the recipient of three lessons courtesy of the sea glass of the Bay of Chaleur.

           Nonattachment. While this wasn’t my first run-in with the concept of nonattachment, my experience with sea glass served as a reminder that nothing is permanent—change is a continual process, even when I cannot immediately see it. While I clearly observed Maddie happily creating various sea glass arrangements, she could not become attached to any of her creations if she wanted them to grow into something else. Likewise, in life, growth cannot occur when we remain attached to past events/failures, present-day worries, or future concerns. Growth can only occur with a release of mental grasping—just as the bottles could not become gems if they held on to their original shape.

Maddie pictured at the Lawrence County Early Childhood Development Center Daycare.

Change happens–we must release our grasp on attachment even to our own children.

          Transformation. Nonattachment can lead to transformation, the second lesson of the sea glass. Maddie’s artful creation of sea glass, formed at the beginning of our stay, was reworked several times, moved to another table, and ultimately disassembled in order to travel home where it will, no doubt, be changed again. Likewise, copious bottles of my youth, and even prior to my birth, are continually, and quite harshly, broken by the ocean’s waves; however, this seemingly brutal treatment creates exquisitely colorful treasures. Therefore, it is worth remembering, no matter how severe the seas of life become, there is transformative power for positive change especially if we seek it out. Even the sharpest edge of a glass bottle is eventually worn smooth.

The summer cottage in which we stayed before the owner transformed it.

The summer cottage in which we stayed after its transformation.

          Connection to our Creator. Hunting for sea glass required Maddie and me to get outside and away from screens. The propagation of social media has the ability to distract and separate us from our natural world. Noise and visual stimuli distract our brains, leaving little room, or even time, for silence. When our minds remain attached to these stimuli, transformation can often become stalled. Time spent in nature, however, even in pursuit of sea glass, is an excellent conductor to our Divine Creator. If God created a sea with the ability to transform glass bottles into bits of colorful collectables, what sort of gems can we potentially discover within ourselves, and others, when we take time to unplug from what the world is telling us, and instead, spend a bit of time in nature, so that our souls may hear the whisperings of God?

Can you find the piece of sea glass hidden in each picture?

            “Put the need for certainty aside. Focus on riding the best wave you can today. Don’t wait for the tide to be perfect tomorrow.”—as seen on strikingtruth.com

          “I intend to not allow the waves of change to knock me off my feet, but instead, learn how to ride them.”—as seen on intent.com

We arrived to bracing winds with gray clouds so low and heavy, it appeared as if the sky would drop its burdens at any moment. The water in the Bay of Chaleur was sliced with angry white caps rapidly forcing their way to the shore. While this was our third time to visit the province of New Brunswick in Canada, we had never before witnessed rough bay waters as the weather on past visits was typically mild, warm, and sunny with calm, serene waters.

Arriving to the vacation cottage in Petite Rocher, New Brunswick off the Bay of Chaleur

Arriving to the vacation cottage in which we stayed off the Bay of Chaleur in Petit Rocher, New Brunswick

Nonetheless, as I continued to take in the unfolding scenery currently surrounding me, I noticed a family of ducks tranquilly navigating through the turbulent waves.   There appeared to be Mama duck in the front with several ducklings in tow. In fact, upon closer inspection, there were several types of waterfowl somehow remaining afloat on the enraged, swelling waters. How was this possible? They were clearly not in distress, despite the whipping winds tossing the waves about; rather, they seemed to glide over each growing surge with grace and ease. This image became imprinted upon my mind

Various waterfowl on the Bay of Chaleur.

Various waterfowl off the Bay of Chaleur

Various waterfowl off the Bay of Chaleur

Sunrise the following morning found the waters somewhat calmer, but still a bit choppy as rain was now a promise felt in the moist, heavy air. Looking once again towards the bay, there was the familiar duck family and numerous other waterfowl calmly rising and sinking with each lift of waves. Sometimes, they would dive below the water obtaining hidden fodder; but then, emerge with poise and dignity again and again. Even after the rains, heavy and cold, began to empty from the bloated, distressed clouds, the duck family managed to move up and down the shoreline feeding itself as if it were another playful day in the sun. Here were the whisperings of a lesson in which I was in need.

The first morning after our arrival the previous night.

Ducks dip and dive for hidden fodder of the Bay of Chaleur

Waterfowl glides along the Bay of Chaleur no matter how calm or rough the water are.

Throughout the rest of my stay in Petit Rocher, New Brunswick, Canada, nestled along the shore of the Bay of Chaleur; I would frequently and curiously observe the bay’s waterfowl, with a particular fondness for the duck family living near the summer cottage in which we were vacationing. Regardless of the weather, cool or hot; rainy or dry; blustery or calm; cloudy or sunny; that duck family never failed to lightheartedly swim to and fro as they dipped and darted for their daily diet. They seemed to possess great faith that all their needs would be provided by staying the course, no matter the current emotion of the atmosphere surrounding them. Oh, to be like that duck family!

The Bay of Chaleur, named by Jacques Cartier in 1534, translates into English as “bay of warmth” or “bay of torrid weather.” (Cartier is said to have arrived during a July heat wave.)   The waters of the bay during the summer months, indeed well-known by tourists and locals, are said to be some of the warmest saltwater north of the state of Virginia due to the warm ocean current that enters the bay from the Gulf of St. Lawrence. Furthermore, numerous freshwater river tributaries also flow into the bay creating a unique fishery. However, due to the bay’s shape, as well as the precipitous, red, rocky cliff line of the northern shore where we were staying, many Petit Rocher residents warned of hazardous wind conditions that sometimes develop, quickly creating large areas of treacherous waters. Thus, the abundant waterfowl, most likely attracted by the ample supply of food, must adapt and remain flexible to the ever-shifting water conditions.

Bay of Chaleur at Petit Rocher has a unique shape and rocky shoreline.

Bay of Chaleur at Petit Rocher has a unique shape and rocky shoreline.

Bay of Chaleur at Petit Rocher has a unique shape and rocky shoreline.

I wish to navigate life more like that duck family and other waterfowl I watched on the Bay of Chaleur. Feeling pain? Breath, be curious, and ride it out. Feeling frustrated, hurt, confused, or uncertain? Dip into the warm waters of faith, and trust that all will be provided. Feeling sad, angry, or lost in a sea of changing, turbulent waters? Relax into, rather than resist, life’s current—the ducks don’t always control where they are going, but they still manage to remain afloat and are returned, in due time, back to their home estuary.

In life, at least for me, it is so easy to feel overwhelmed by change, worry, and/or struggles. However, it is important to realize that feelings are often created, or at the very least increased (or even decreased) by emotions. Our emotions are like the weather of the Bay of Chaleur—they can quickly change. And while the physical shoreline is certainly altered from season to season by the weather, just as emotions sometimes can alter our constitution; the basic make-up of the bay–rocky cliffs, river estuaries, warm ocean current, and abundant wildlife–remain the same.

Change, pain, struggles, even emotions come and go like the wind blowing the waves on the Bay of Chaleur. However, just as the Gulf of St. Lawrence continually sends an undercurrent of warm waters to the bay, so too is there a Divine source flowing to, through, and around us. The lesson of the Bay of Chaleur’s ducks and waterfowl for me to share, and (hopefully) put into practice, is to let go of the attachment to struggle, pain, change, and so forth; and, relax into the warmth and love of our God. Those ducks, I observed, were always fed, never lost, and yet did not resist the waves of change—rugged or placid—they remained firmly in the water, but flexible in their course, trusting in their source. So too, must we remain firm in our faith, but flexible in life path, and trust our heavenly source to provide all we need.