Lake Winnipesaukee calls me home
Categories: Culture, Living our faithSummers at the lake are practically an American icon. It seems like they star as the leading metaphor in movies, commercials, books. The idea of idyllic childhood summers is held up as the unattainable goal once we leave our childhood. In fact, that longing to return “home to the lake” is nearly a universal longing. It is, once more, a whisper of Eden that Ron Martoia writes about in his book “Static.” It is the recognition that there is a home we are longing for, and this isn’t it.
My father built two cottages on this lake, and I could — and maybe should — write a whole book about the ways he showed his love for his family in the way he built his homes. If I were to sum it up in just a few words, however, I would say that wherever he was, he created a sense of stability and order. In my father’s world, all was well. He created beauty. And over all these things he created love and respect. I spent hours helping my dad build a barbecue at one of our cottages, and it still sits their today, immovable in brick and cement. It was my dad’s particular genius that he could make a six year old girl feel like she actually had a worthwhile part in building that barbecue. I saw that old cottage when we were zipping by in the boat today. Over space and time I felt loved again by my father.
That’s why I love coming home to the lake every summer. Memories are everywhere of my family. We were here every year as I was growing up, and later we all brought our families here as they arrived and grew. Later, we returned here full of grief as members of my family left us too soon. My two only brothers died within eighteen months of each other when they were only 35 and 36. For years, it was hard to see one empty boat slip and know that the lake was changed forever. But we kept coming, because even in grief it is the whisper of Eden that heals us. And it did.
My father died three and a half years ago. We sold the last cottage that he built for us and found another one to use for our families. Year after year we come back home to the lake, expecting to find our home here. It is a different home, and it feels lonely at times, but it is a faithful home. God meets us here, as we pull kids on tubes or dock the boat in Wolfeboro for afternoon coffee. He reminds me of his unchanging, unfailing nature, His care for me and my family, His creativity in nature, and His overwhelming security in times of grief and times of joy. I know that even this lake and the towns around it could crumble and fade like the paint on a buoy, but in my heart there is the realization that His love will never change. My father built me a home, and my FATHER has prepared a home. When we went flying down the lake today I was filled with laughter watching the kids bounce around in the crazy tube. It felt so familiar, and so much like home.