When we finally spent our first weekend at the cottage I realized, we have finally arrived. This is why families have cottages. I get it. Soon after I lazed in my repurposed Craigslist hammock and I thought, “Wow, I’ve really arrived now! Why have I never owned a hammock before?” These last two weeks as we sped through the inter coastal waterways with my floppy green hat and my super tan legs I realized we have definitely arrived. Arrived in the way a motorcycle enthusiast must feel as he cruises down the back country roads on his new Harley for the first time. This is the lifestyle I’ve always watched from a distance and now am a part of and it’s incredible.
It’s really deeper than that though. All the material things that have some how worked out and come our way over the last few months are really just a set of tools being used to bring us together. Not that a boat or hammock alone will change one’s life, but the opportunity to spend time at the cottage every weekend or spend lazy Sundays in the two person hammock buried underneath four little men or trapped in a boat for six hours sitting in close proximity to each other. Miles from wi fi access and cell service. Just our family and the ocean breeze and the islands and the mangroves.
Our family is tighter and tighter after each weekend we get away. The boys are eating up the wholesome country lifestyle that we slip into every Saturday. I now have a habit of leaving my cell phone in the drink holder in the van. It’s useless to me on the island and not because the cell service on the island is less than desirable, but because I am already with my family. I’m surrounded by all those who matter to me. Except for my mom up north whom receives an ongoing and off going island phone call updating her on the sunburns and dolphins and quirky cottage issues.
I woke up last Sunday morning and started mentally preparing excuses for missing church. Sunday church would better fit in my schedule Monday through Friday when I have my date book out and am actually setting the alarm clock. Weekends at the cottage are designed to be relaxing with no commitments. Church however was designed for Sunday and GOD doesn’t live on island time like I do. It’s never a question for Scott. He wakes and rounds up boys and searches the cottage dresser for appropriate church clothes. We have two drawers in the dresser. The top drawer contains clothes for Scott and I. This is where I retire my holey (not church holy, actually full of holes) before they meet their maker in the trash can. The bottom drawer contains clothes for the boys. Yes, they all share one drawer.
I rolled over and looked at Scott, no excuse ready. “We are all going to church,” he announced in his voice of reason. I sighed but didn’t argue. I knew he was right. Since our weekends are just wholesome family time now, church is even more important and needs to play a priority. Our children are watching and I want them to know how important church is for our family. Scott’s mom and dad brought him to church every Sunday and since I was about 19, Scott has insisted that we go every week. I want my boys to grow up knowing that this is a priority and feel confident in requiring that their own families attend as well. I recall on vacation in Mexico finding a church and sitting through a mass. Even though they didn’t speak English, they spoke Catholic. It was comforting to see how a religion can span the country and how much I actually understood through the music and the tradition that originally seemed so intimidating as a non-Catholic.
As I was shooing the boys toward the van we heard some splashing down by the dock. We raced down to find a dolphin fishing in our canal. We stood in silence watching his powerful body create a wake as he surfaced and dove below chasing schools of fish past our dock. Incredible. I feel a bit like the girls in seventh grade with their colorful Lisa Frank dolphin notebooks. Imagine a bunch of middle school girls in Northern Wisconsin obsessed with dolphins and unicorns and Persian cats. I was too poor to own Lisa Frank notebooks and therefore declared that they were ridiculous. But, maybe they were actually on to something with the dolphins. They are stunning. Majestic and powerful and captivating. We were graced by this dolphin’s presence Sunday morning. A little reward for doing the right thing and going to church. Thank you.
The minute I sat down in the pew and knelt to say my prayers I was reminded that this is just where I need to be. Each time I hesitate to go to church and then end up going the message seems even more personal than usual. I swear sometimes GOD plants a message in the priest's mouth that is to be delivered to me and me alone. Several points that have been weighing heavily on my mind were addressed. It clarified some things that Scott and I really needed to hear right now, however, Scott was conveniently in the bathroom with a little boy during said message. I’m not sure he actually believed me when I reiterated the point. Figures!
As we drove back to the cottage I issued the citations. “Gavin, you lose 7 minutes of fishing for sitting your butt on the pew while kneeling, twice, and also for poking Finn and making him squeal during communion. Tommy, you lose 15 minutes of fishing for leaving the pew to get a drink, twice, and for sitting while we stood during the Lord’s prayer and for offering to bring Finn back by Dad and then never returning.” Punishments were served and the tide came in sun was received and bikes were ridden and mosquitoes were swatted and PBJ sandwiches were wolfed down at an alarming rate and then the tide went out and then the sun started to fall.
An evening dolphin/sunset cruise is quickly becoming one of my favorite times to be out on the boat. The boys have full bellies and are exhausted from hours of playing in the sun and the surf and we take a mellow cruise while slowly chasing the sunset. We are joined on all sides of the boat sometimes by the playful dolphins and I am reminded that all the technology in the world can’t match the great vastness of the ocean and the wonder of all creatures and the closeness it can bring a family immersing themselves in it each weekend.
We’ve arrived. How do I make sure we stay?
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