When I was a teenager, I had a sailboat. It was a twelve-foot red catamaran with one main sail. My brother-in-law, Stan, had obtained it in a trade. When summer came, we sailed upon the mighty waters of Cold Stream Pond in Northern Maine. Neither of us ever took lessons to learn the intricacies of the sport. We had a basic understanding of the mechanics of sailing, and we had watched others out on the water. We had barely enough knowledge to set sail but that wouldn’t stop us. I was a small girl at that time. Soaking wet I never could have tipped the scales to ninety pounds. I was not big enough to upright even this small vessel if it flipped over. So, I sought out sailing partners and as it turned out I found two, Stan and my cousin Mickey. When one wasn’t available the other probably was.
These two men had very different sailing styles. Mickey was smart and methodical. He was always using his head and able and willing to think actions out beyond their immediate circumstances. He could pick a destination and, even with little wind, could get us there by patiently tacking into the wind then maneuvering to fill our sails to allow us to glide along. Sailing with Mickey was safe and predictable.
This was not the case with Stan. Stan was adventurous and ready for the adrenaline rush. Coldstream Pond was a fairly good-sized lake that funneled the winds down through its hilly banks. On any given day, depending on how the wind was blowing, there was usually one end of the lake that was calm and serene and another that had white caps lapping the shores. Stan always headed for the white caps. Then we would fill our sails, hold on tight, and enjoy the rush of bouncing across the water at the greatest speed possible for a little boat. There was never any doubt that our adventure would eventually involve being hurled off the pontoons and into the water as the small craft flipped upside-down.
I never sailed a different craft and therefor never ventured beyond the waters of Cold Stream Pond. If I had been serious about sailing or even getting anywhere, I would’ve had to seek out the help and advice of those who have done it before. I would have had to read a few books and learn from masters of the craft. If I want to sail across the oceans, I will have to engage the help and companionship of others with a like goal that had studied the ways of sailors, ship, and oceans. The craft would be much larger than our small catamaran. It would be a large craft that could not be as easily turned to tack into the wind. We would want one that couldn’t be flipped over in a strong gust of wind. I could never do it alone or even with one trusted companion.
As it were, both of my sailing companions died too young; Mickey at forty-two and Stan at the age of fifty-four. Each died from natural diseases that neither Mickey’s cautious tactics nor Stan’s bold exuberance could prevent.
This is the way of life and the way of history. Our heritage and inheritance were formed by bold men and women who let the exuberance of their spirit fill their sails and propel them forward—finding new worlds, defining, and experiencing new ways of life—some with great success and some with failure that required righting the mast and starting over again. Others were methodical thinkers that inspired others to consider where they and their culture were and how, in a methodical thought-out manner, were going to move forward to a better place and a better way of living. No one person has gotten us to this point in history alone nor have any of us remained unaffected by those who have come before us.
When I was ordained a good friend and fellow minister gave me a sketch that she had drawn of a sailboat filled with fishermen and nets. It was captioned “We’re in this boat together”. As much as we would like to think that we can and have accomplished great things on our own, the truth is we are all in this boat together. We depend on each other to know when to sail headstrong into the whitecaps and when to tack cautiously into the wind. We won’t and we don’t always get it right. Sometimes we need to right the mast, shake off the water, and start again.
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