Editor’s note: The following column is one of two unpublished works that Linda E. Kelly wrote prior to her death on May 5. Her final column will appear in the Catholic Herald next month.
Dear Readers, one beautiful day in late May, long ago and far away (actually, not that far away — Lake George is a 500-acre lake straddling the Indiana-Michigan stateline), my cousin Dori and I were thrilled that the grown-ups had finally agreed to let us take the row boat out on our own.
Summer days were filled, of course, with swimming, fishing, and racing down the long, steep lawn which stretched from the road to the giant Linden tree at the water’s edge.
Most afternoons, after the little kids got up from their naps, Dori and I — since we had reached that responsible age of about 11 — were tasked with walking our younger siblings (there were always at least five or six in tow, clutching a nickel in their chubby little hands) down the road and through the woods to “The Candy Store”.
Its official name was “Wilson’s Grocery,” but the main attraction for us was the glass case of penny candy right next to the antique cash register . . . that case and the soda pop dispenser out back by their small dock.
It was that small dock which was our destination on this particular day.
We could walk the route to Wilson’s with our eyes closed, but now, with our reprieve from babysitting, for the first time ever, we would venture there by boat!
All of us kids were excellent swimmers, having been taught to swim around age five when our sometimes-surly grandfather threw us off the dock. It was a rite of passage.
Also, a rite of passage was the privilege and honor of being occasionally invited by Grandpa to accompany him on his early morning fishing trips to catch the biggest bluegill in the lake.
He showed us how to row, how to bait a hook, how to find his secret fishing spot, and how to raise and lower the anchor.
The sky was blue and the water calm when we embarked upon our adventure.
Following the shoreline, we took turns rowing, all the while arguing about which flavor of Nehi was the best.
We made it to Wilson’s rickety old dock without incident in about 30 minutes, tied up near the boat gas pump, selected our treasures, and then, fortified with Bazooka bubble gum in our pockets and bottles of Nehi (Dori had gotten grape; I selected orange) in the bow, we put to sea for the return voyage.
Once again, we hugged the shoreline as we rowed back, but when we reached the cottage, we decided to savor our freedom and linger a little longer in the water.
We laughed and talked as we drank our pops and sang all the Beatles songs we knew.
But we lingered too long. Suddenly, the sun went behind the clouds, the wind picked up, and we realized we had drifted a long distance from shore toward the middle of the lake. We had forgotten to lower the anchor!
Both of us, wanting to appear brave in front of the other, tried not to panic, tried not to let on how frightened we really were.
Sitting side by side, each manning one of the oars, we frantically rowed against the wind and made it back to shore just as the thunder started rolling . . . and our parents started yelling.
I still dream about that day quite often.
We often hear, from many different spiritual authorities, that we must “center” our lives in Christ, and although the meaning and wisdom of that directive is fairly obvious, in practice, it’s easier said than done!
Several years ago, my husband, Dave, and I, in our research to facilitate a workshop on how to guide adult children back to the Faith, came across a rather surprising statistic.
Most young people who leave the Church can’t offer one specific reason for leaving. Instead, they claim they just “drifted away”.
We entitled the workshop, “Caught in the Current.”
Dori and I would not have been caught in the current of Lake George had we but anchored our boat instead of trying to eyeball its position centered offshore.
We needed that anchor to stay centered, to stay close to safety.
And now, all these years later, despite my best intentions to stay centered, I sometimes find myself distracted, off balance, trying to navigate rough waters on my own.
So, dear Readers, the question is, what is the anchor we can use to stay centered in Christ and to keep our kids in the Faith? Have you discovered the secret? Is it daily prayer? Is it the regular receiving of the sacraments? Is it the commitment to scheduled Scripture reading? Adoration? All the above?
Usually in my dream, I see Jesus on the shore by the Linden tree, pantomiming the motion of dropping the anchor, and I feel relieved for the reminder awakening with the renewed commitment to stay centered on Him in everything I do the next day.
But last night — oh, my goodness, last night! — I dreamt that when I saw Jesus on shore, He wasn’t reminding me about the anchor.
Instead, in a soft voice, He was calling to me, “If you want to walk on water, you have to get out of the boat!”
Methinks there is a major course change ahead. I’ll have to write to you again later . . .