Vacations

In the Gospel of Luke Jesus says, “What father gives a serpent’s egg when asked for fish?” When it comes to the desires of the heart, we sometimes ask for a serpent’s egg and get it!  I am joyful that we have a merciful God who helps us get rid of our serpent eggs.

Vacations can often contain a nest of serpent eggs.

Twenty years ago when my son and stepdaughter were still quite young, I decided to take them to a cabin on the coast. The cabin was on a bluff overlooking the Pacific Ocean surrounded by dwarf redwood forests. At night from the cabin, you could see the stars and the moon glimmering over the surface of the water; and, the ocean becomes the audible voice of the Holy Spirit as it washes across the rocks while the foghorn sends its’ warning into the night.  Every once in a while, you could see a solitary fishing boat and could almost feel the cold hands and eyes of the fisherman pointing and looking towards the warm glow of the cabin.

Although the desire of my heart was to get closer to my children without having to compete with movies, boys, television, and telephones, I packed with other things in mind.  Since there was a Methodist revival planned near the cabin and the organizer assured me that there were children the same age as mine, I knew there would be youth activities for the week.  So, I packed 6 sweaters and my favorite pipe, books I wanted to read, and a portable typewriter.  I envisioned myself at the table, watching the children play, listening to the sound of children’s laughter and music, with my typewriter, a good book, and a great cup of coffee.  Occasionally, I planned to put on my favorite sweater, and walk in the foggy afternoons near the bluff not thinking of bills and budgets, school loans, and etc; but, I would think of the song of the ocean with mist in my face.

The night to depart on our journey arrived.  As I entered the last stretch of the drive, I heard a sickening thunk of the transmission.  But, I thought, “The car was due for some work.”  The following day at the Revival, I asked someone about our needs to make some connections with local Methodists.  I was told to look around at nametags.  After I protested mildly, I was told that there was some rivalry in the churches, people were not very close, and they didn’t know each other. Therefore, “Look around at name tags”, he said.

While leaving, my stepdaughter Casie said, “met a really nice girl my age who has a six-year old brother, too.  Her name was Nina.”  “Oh Joy! Thank you Jesus”, I thought.  “Great”, I said, “Where does she live?” “Nearby,” I was told.  “What’s their address?” “I don’t know” “Telephone number, last name?” I asked.  “I forgot to ask!”, she said.

6 year-olds and 15 year olds do little that they both enjoy at the same time, but something in common is that look they get when they are dissatisfied! Well, between cooking and entertaining, and peace making, there was very little time for long walks:  However, culture shock is an excellent truth serum for teenagers.  My daughter and I spoke together and laughed like we had not done in years.  My son and I played for hours and days, catching frogs, and bringing home tree stumps.

Then we received a promise that a seven year old was coming to the cabin next door, “O thank you Jesus”, I thought.  Thursday – no seven year old.  Friday morning, the day to leave, no seven year old.  Afternoon, the car packed, taking the last check around the cabin- the 7 year old arrived.  Turning the electricity back on, taking the coffee and the milk out, and the jackets- I went back into the cabin.  I had a scrap of paper and a stub of pencil. I began to write. Then, Zac entered the cabin door. The 7 yr old closer to eight had decided to go inside. Zac looked at me knowingly as if to say, “He’s boring and just wait till he’s here for a whole week!  Let’s go Dad”.  I repacked the car.

As we were winding our way through the redwoods towards home, I thought about my desires of sweaters and books. Then, I saw my daughters laughing face. I saw my son grasp my arm as I, exhausted, made my way across the beach and heard his voice say, “C’mon Dad, the best part’s coming.”  And I thought of the children getting older and Zac growing so fast, the richness of love of family, of God, and of life itself.  And I said, “Thank you, Jesus.”  Because I knew the time would come for sweaters and walks; and, I would desire for this week to be again. And, as I thought on this richness, in the trees and the late sun, a tear started to form near the corner of my eye. Then, Zac reminded me where we were when he said “What would you call a man with four arms growing out of his chest?”  "I don’t know!"  “A four-armed man, dumb daddy.  Daddy, I love you”. And, I said “Thank, you Jesus!”  Later at home, in my sweater, the fog rolling in to Point Richmond, I began to type:  I wished to be at the cabin again, just as it was!  The desires of my heart God had filled, even though I did not even know what they were.  Thank you, Jesus!