I was recently visiting the lake with my family, passing a week in the quiet and chaos of a much-needed break from normal rhythms. There have been many changes recently, and sometimes you need space to get away to digest what they mean in your life. You could call it a vacation … but I still worked most days, so I’m calling it a trip. Either way, it broke up our normal rhythms at home for new ones we established for a week, and then left at the lake house, we might pick them back up again if we go back next week, otherwise they will stay there waiting for whenever we can make it again.
This lake house is a special place. It’s been in my family’s name since the late 80s, when my Grandparents got it, and now the calendar is filled with summer plans of not just their son and daughters, but also of grandkids and great-grandkids. All of my cousins enjoy their time just as we did, and everyone has their own rhythms. You can see them when you read the physical log on a calendar my grandma has hanging up in the kitchen.
There is a lot of my history here. Every nook and corner has memories. Memories of times with my parents and siblings, with my cousins, with my friends (high school all the way to current friends), with church groups, with in-laws, and of course — now with my little family.
My kids call it “the blue house” (cause it’s blue — shocking, I know) and they love it. I honestly get a little blown away when I see them in it. I was here when I was their age, so was the golf cart, which you now have to charge every night, or it skips trying to “little engine that could” its way up the hill. The poor thing. It’s on its last legs.
It was a little surreal playing with them in the lake; the dock is new this year, the old one finally died on us. But the view is the same. Same view of water and a little “beach” across the cove. They jump off into the same lake that I jumped into. Except they’re listening to Shakira sing World Cup songs and the songs of now-Christian Daddy Yankee (seriously, he’s a true Jesus follower, I don’t know why this isn’t a bigger deal to people. Go look up his new stuff) in addition to Kokomo. Which, frankly, the first two are much more danceable if we’re being honest.
I watched my 5-year-old swimming away from me, and I was lightning struck with a thought — that’s my daughter.
Now this might seem dumb. She’s 5 after all. We’ve been together for a while. But for some reason, I saw her this past trip in such a way I never had. My own little girl, full of fun and her own defiant will, laughing and playing and begging me to jump in one more time, and I realized I have a little girl who is learning to live her own life. She’s not a toddler anymore. She invents her own games. She gets upset when her plans don’t work. She gets anxious with storms or sketchy golf carts (valid).
And she’s mine. She’s my little girl.
I’m her dad.
Now this trip also showed me the dad life. On previous trips we’ve taken to places I haven’t been the “main dad”, you get it if you’ve vacationed with a dad before. They’re setting everything up, prepping things, getting things squared away, etc etc, and once they finally sit down to drink that coffee, it’s time for the kids to run up and ask them to jump in, and then the playing starts. That’s always been my dad’s role — but this trip it was mine.
I’ve never been more grateful for my dad than in that moment I realized truly all he’s always done, all he still does as PawPaw for my girls.
As I sit and write this, it’s the last night, and I’m taking a break from running through the mental checklist of tomorrow’s packing-up routine.
But something earlier today has me thinking. I was cleaning up the dock, the family had all gone up to get ready for naps and snacks, and it started to rain. This wasn’t really a problem. I was in my swim trunks and had no phone or wallet on me, so I didn’t care about myself. But it meant all the stuff got wet, the tent, the towels, the chairs, etc and I would have to wait to dry them. So I packed up what I could and put it on the golf cart (again, a questionable idea), and then I stood on the dock.
I stood out in the rain, looking at the same lake that was different. The same view, but different water. The same location, but a different time. The same me, but a different me.
I had a number of worries running through my head, usually I do when I’m alone with my thoughts. But as I felt the rain — I heard the Lord: “Zack, haven’t I always provided? Then why worry?”
And I felt cleansed a bit. Cleansed from my worry, washed away from the future but the rain of the present.
“Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes? Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life[e]?
“And why do you worry about clothes? See how the flowers of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you—you of little faith? So do not worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.
Matthew 6v25-34
“Do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.”
So I told the Lord he had a deal, I would enjoy this afternoon of rain falling on my face and the lake’s calm rippling and splashing with fresh, renewing waters.
And I would trust him to provide. He provided when I was 5 and asking my dad to swim in this lake, when I had no idea of the worries and woes of mom and dad. He is providing now when my 5-year-old is asking me to jump in, and I am worrying, wondering, and wishing about the future. But for now, it is enough to pretend to fall off this float when “she makes me fall.”
Who knows, one day maybe she’ll do the same for her kid.
And the Lord will provide then, too.
He always does.
Fresh Rain
as I feel the drops drip down my cheek
a smile spreads on my freshwater lips
the worries swirl down the drain of my mind
they’ll be back I’m sure but in their proper time
.
as I see the ripples spread across the water
the plip plops of the clouds crying in joy
their creator’s name in every single drop
for they let the rain fall in its proper time
.
as I watch the ripples waving to me
moving out like tree rings on the water
telling tales of time lost to me
but never wasted in any single way
.
as I wait, wonder, wish, and worry
the rain soaks my hair and my heart
my mind thunders with doubts of stability
my brain awash and about to drown
.
as I stand in the rain I feel the pain
of years I won’t get back
but smile at the joy of possibilities
that live in the years to come
.
as I stand in the rain I feel the joy
of my child’s smile mid-leap
as she giggles bubbling, bobbing to the surface
and begs for just one more min of my time
.
as I stand in the rain I feel you
I see you in the clouds
looking down of me at 33
the same you did when I was 5
.
as I stand in the rain I know it’s going to be ok
as I stand in the rain I know I’ll be ok
as I stand in the rain you stand with me
as I stand in the rain I feel you next to me
so I stand smiling in the rain
with you
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