What Pastors Do on Summer Vacations- Part 2

I’ve never attended a funeral in my swimsuit before.

We have a timeshare, one of the old-fashioned types, where you stay in the exact same place the exact same weeks each year. There are 32 units at our place, and we have gotten to know people over the past dozen+ years simply by virtue of proximity. (For instance, we know to dread the noise from the party-hearty types that show up each year for week 30.) Over the years, we’ve shared some significant life events together.  Some life events happen at the beach itself, such as the year our daughter was rushed to the ICU with undiagnosed and life-threatening juvenile diabetes. Most events happen during the other 51 weeks of the year, and we share them with each other annually in beach conversations or in passing.

This year, there had been a loss to death. I knew the man only from watching him kitesurf in front of our beach, marveling at how high he could fly into the air. A brain aneurysm claimed him over Memorial Day weekend.  Although he was my age, it fell to his mother to plan his funeral. His surfing buddies suggested a “paddle out” as an appropriate way to memorialize him.  Word spread. I offered my services as a pastor, but another pastor who stayed there had offered already.  (Imagine that- 2 pastors at the same place!) 

And so we gathered on the beach on a Wednesday afternoon. His 5 siblings spoke of the man and their love for him. There were funny memories and laughter, the way that there usually is, and talk of his excellence in his profession as a partner at a major accounting firm. The outer ring of us stood in tribute to a man whom we knew only for his soaring above the sea, tethered to a kite and a surfboard. It was beautiful and perfect, and the pastor said exactly the right things. When the talking was done, the nieces and nephews got on surfboards and paddled out past the sandbar.  There, ashes and flowers were showered into the sea. And the salt of tears mixed with the salt of the ocean, even for those of us in the outer circle.

That night, we were in our condo when Andy called us out to the porch. The family had one more act of tribute, lighting floating lanterns that sailed into the night sky towards the full moon.  The beauty of those lights floating off gave us goosebumps, as we heard the echoes of voices calling out his name one last time into the sea air.

Families come in all sorts of different ways, shapes, and sizes. Until this year, though, I never realized that family can come a week at a time.

What Pastors Do on Summer Vacations, Part 1

Nothing. I did nothing, and a whole lot of it.  I lost track of what day it was.  I played Canasta into the late night (for me) hours with my family. I read novels because they sounded good and I thought I would enjoy reading them. I read the Book of Romans for the same reason. I attended a funeral on the beach (see Part 2). I stood my ground (see Part 3). We ate out a bunch, and we made easy meals when we ate in, and we ate a lot of shrimp and key lime pie both in and out.

The water was icky due to habitat-destroying releases of water from Lake Okechobee and full of jellyfish, stingrays, sawfish, and something that created yesterday’s headline:  “Sea creature bites teen fishing on Sanibel shore.”  (The television news described flesh hanging off of both legs and feet, but the newspaper interviewed the sheriff who observed laconically, “It couldn’t have been too big because of the size of the bites.”  I consider the whole affair to be Nature’s revenge for the Okechobee releases.) Yet, even my well-founded concern about habitat destruction and less-well-founded concerns about hungry apocalyptic sea creatures roaming the shore didn’t dampen my utter enjoyment of agenda-less days on a tropical island.  Snakes and lizards slithered by me while I read, and a 5-foot alligator lurked along the bike path as I pedaled by, and I loved every minute of it.

As hard as it was to pack up and leave paradise this morning, it feels great to be home!  My to-do list contains both mundane things and significant challenges. Settling back into the regular routine feels comfortable and right, and I’ve got the energy to deal with some of the more “interesting” things ahead. 

On one of the morning news shows a few days ago (I actually had time to watch the morning news shows!), there was a story on “Hail Mary-Cations.” In essence, married couples whose marriages are in danger go on a vacation as a last-ditch effort to save their marriage. Some couples report finding renewed love while experiencing an African safari together. The news story told also of couples who went straight from the airport to separate apartments, with the vacation not having fixed the problem. While listening to that story, I realized how blessed I am to have time away each year with my husband and children, to renew these most important relationships.  No need for a Hail Mary when the game is going well all along.

Life is good, and I am blessed, and I am blessed to have had some time away to remember how very, very blessed I am.