Looking Back at Father's Day. A Note From Jan.

It’s been a week since I wrote the following reflection. A week of worthwhile interruptions.  Writing took a rest while the perch hummed with conversations, meals, laundry, and all that comes when generations gather. Good to fall asleep to sounds of family still on California time. Quiet’s at a premium, but the last thing I need right now is a silent retreat. 

Father’s Day 2015 The small calendar beside my bed for June shows two birds hovering over a nest.  Written above them are the words, ”We Have Everything We Need.” I know this is true from what I’ve read in the Bible and also from experience. Some of you, like I, take comfort from these familiar words from Matthew 6, “Look at the birds of the air; they neither sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they?”  Worth more than a quick thought …”Are you not more valuable than they?” Yet our knowledge and feelings aren’t always in sync, are they? And, I don’t know about you, but it’s worse for me when I confuse want with need.

Today is Father’s Day. The day chosen several weeks ago by Heather and Chad as the best day to spread some of Jud’s ashes in the ocean he and we all love. One of the few days this summer when we were all going to be together.  The rest of the ashes are to be spread farther from shore near one of Jud’s and Chad’s favorite fishing holes. That’s for another day as today is not a day to be out in the boat with nature doing intermittent sound and light shows.

Didn’t really feel like doing anything of the sort. But we were all together, so I had to make myself head downstairs to Jud’s office to pick up the container that held his ashes. Felt myself cracking open with every step I took.  Kristina heard me and gathered me in her arms, letting me sob and gather the strength to do what had to be done. Chad, overhearing me telling Kristina how hard this was, said, as only he could, “It’s O.K., Mom,  I’ll get the ashes.  It won’t be too long before you’re with Dad.  Knock on wood.” Laughter exploded from the three of us. Jud loved that kind of humor.  Sick!  Holy hope!  Just what I needed to nudge me up the stairs and down to the beach.

It rained heavily during the day but ceased when we headed to the beach for our ceremony. A gift.

A bad beach day actually boded well for us, leaving Good Harbor Beach mostly deserted except for a few surfers and seagulls diving and screeching,”mine!” The tide ran swift and high along the stretch we call the river beach.  Gulls squawked, waves rolled in, drawing us towards the site in the sand picked by Heather and Kristina.

Heather and Kristina and a couple of the grandchildren had left early to pick up some flowers. The rest of us arrived at the beach about half an hour later.  Chad  carried Jud’s  ashes and a red plastic bucket and shovel, beach tools. Matt brought the notes he’d written about the cycle of life, death, eternal life…to help the younger ones grasp what was happening.

Although they seem to catch it better than the rest of us.  Simple faith and trust. By the time the 10 of us gathered on the beach, Heather and Kristina had made a giant heart in the sand…outlined in flowers.  Basil added a sand castle.  Maggie, Lily and Luke  collected pieces of driftwood, shells, feathers.  Symbols.

The service included words from the Bible, the Book of Common Prayer (thank you, Patrick) and personal prayer.  The three younger grandchildren sang Jesus Loves Me, standing atop one of the large rocks near the heart-in-the-sand, while Luke mimicked his Popo’s antics whenever I sang to the grands at tuck-in time.  Chad held his Dad’s remains in the red plastic bucket from which the grandchildren and the rest of us scooped out that much-loved ash, then opened our hands to let it wash into the ocean. 

Poco, the youngest at age 4, having exchanged her Sunday dress for shorts and a tee-shirt that read “FIERCE is my middle name,” waded in.  Soon she was in up to her neck. Smiling, jumping, shivering and yelling, “I think Popo put some of the ashes back on my head.” Wouldn’t surprise me. 

One of Jud’s last wishes was for the grandchildren to “enjoy Good Harbor Beach.”  He must’ve loved watching the comings and goings of this motley crew called family. 

It’s quiet as I write. Kristina, Chad and the girls have gone back to their own place.  Tomorrow starts another work-week.  Heather, Matt, Lily, Luke and Basil took off for a hike at dusk to Halibut Point.  Matt flies back to California tomorrow for his work.  It’s peaceful here at the moment.  The quiet’s settling. We’ve had a full house since Friday when Maggie and two of her friends came for a sleepover to celebrate her 8th birthday.  The California crew arrived the day before.  Lily returned from 24 hours with LaVida yesterday.  Preparation for being a counselor in training next year.  Her fifth summer with LaVida.  Before she left, she made birthday cupcakes with Maggie on Friday morning.  Life goes on. The dryer works away at tumbling wet towels, readying them for the next trek to the beach.

The red plastic bucket’s back out on the deck, ready for tomorrow when it’s supposed to be a better beach day.  That which held Jud’s ashes for a short time today will become a container for summer finds:  shells, rocks, sea glass, driftwood or some small something a child, lower to the ground, discovers as treasure. 

Low to the ground. Familiar turf these past months.  But never hopeless. Down but not out. Sometimes it’s the grabbing grace of gratitude; other times holy humor. Laughter even in the face of death. Jud taught us well. It’s dusk now and, as I look towards the ocean, I feel calm.  It’s been a good day.  Father’s Day.  A day to honor Jud and the One who shovels hope into graveside holes in the ground or into fists full of ashes.   Holy hope allowing us to release those loved ashes because we believe this is just part of the story, not the end.

The quiet’s interrupted by the stomping feet of the Halibut hikers ridding shoes of excess sand on the front porch. An empty red bucket waits on the back deck, ready for tomorrow’s adventures.  My heart’s full. Simple reminders that I have everything I need.