Category: Intuition Diaries

Retreat: The Act or Process of Withdrawing

 
The Lord is not slack concerning His promise, as some count slackness, but is longsuffering toward us, not willing that any should perish but that all should come to repentance.
2 Peter 3:9 NKJV
 

Intuition Diairies

We found that as we neared the end of our trip, we had mixed emotions. We both let our minds wander back home to the pleasures and duties awaiting us there. Then we would remind each other, “We’re still on vacation, enjoy here and now.”

We left Luddington to make our way to Grand Haven. Grand Haven was a fun place to relax, a great spot for both boaters and landlubbers. The marina we stayed in was close to a row of specialty shops and the famed Musical Fountain show. The lighted water spraying in various shapes and designs garnered oohs and aahs from the audience. The selection of music was quite eclectic, from the theme from Space Odyssey: 2001 to a Country and Western tune to Hip Hop.

The next day, we just puttered around town. It was sort of melancholy day, because we knew things were coming to an end. We enjoyed an ice cream on the boardwalk, did one last round of laundry and then decided to eat in town. Too hot to cook. We found a bar and grill that made huge burritos. Les got the beef and I, the chicken. Smothered in cheese and a red sauce, this monstrosity was more than either of us could finish.

After dinner, Les checked the weather to see if we could cross the lake the next day. We decided to try, hoping the winds would wait until evening to pick up strength. We made the attempt knowing we could retreat to shore and head further south to Holland or Saugatuck. Our other back up plan was to try again on Friday, since the weather outlook was good.

The next morning, we hunkered down for the 90 mile run across the lake. I decided to drive first to keep my motion sickness to a minimum. As we travelled, the waves buffeted us, but we seemed to be making good time. We made it across about 20 miles, when we heard a clanking sound. We looked around inside the cabin. Nothing was making that sound. We slowed down to idle speed, so Les could check outside. The waves were pushing us to and fro, when he discovered that the roof rack that carries our bikes was coming loose.

I put the boat into neutral, while Les climbed on the side to secure the rack. Due to the rocking of the boat from side to side, I clenched my seat. Thinking my effort would help Les cling to the side of the boat, as I hoped and prayed that the wind wouldn’t knock him off. It was the most harrowing event of the trip. I kept praying. Finally, Les climbed back into the boat, announcing that all was secure.

I put on my bravest face, and asked if we should stay our course to cross the lake. Les came over to the GPS and showed me that we had 60 miles to go. He decisively suggested that we turn around; we were heading back to shore, veering southeast to Holland. I could have argued, but I didn’t really have the stomach or nerves to keep battling the waves. We had no idea if they would simmer down or get worse. It was one of those defining moments.

The meaning of repentance became very clear that day: change direction. Don’t stay on a reckless path. Get out of there. We knew that staying on the current course could cost the potential loss of the bikes. And even though pride tempted us to brave the waves and take the pounding, the firm voice of reason (aka, the Holy Spirit) told us to retreat, find refuge. Don’t be foolish.
 
That morning I had read the Scripture: “He who walks with the wise grows wise, but a companion of fools suffers harm.” (Proverbs 13:20)

We made it safely to Holland, which sits on Lake Manitowoc off of the main lake. We let down our anchor for the afternoon, praying for more wisdom. Les had checked the weather, and the forecast had changed from light and calm winds on Friday and Saturday to high winds with 2-4 feet waves. I decided to sit on the front of the boat and soak up the sun, the breeze and the peace of repentance.

Meanwhile, Les did his research and found out that he could catch the Amtrak in Holland; the station was only 1.5 miles from the marina we planned to stay at that evening. He also figured out that he could take public transportation once he made it to Chicago, to within a mile of the other marina, where we had parked the truck and trailer. He booked his ticket, and we made our way to the last stop of our trip.

 

In the morning, we walked together to the train station. After I saw Les off, I withdrew leisurely back to the boat to spend one last day reading, resting and relaxing in God’s presence.

 
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Trust: Assured Reliance on the Character, Ability, Strength, or Truth of

Intuition Diaries

This hope is a strong and trustworthy anchor for our souls.
It leads us through the curtain into God’s inner sanctuary.
 Hebrews 6:19 NLT

 

 
A pattern is emerging this last week of the trip, a modified routine. We travel to the next port, then stay a day, travel and stay, travel and stay. We plan to head home by the end of the week.

 After a day and a half at Frankfort, we set out to Luddington State Park about 48 miles south to climb 130 steps to the top of Michigan’s tallest lighthouse, the Big Sable Point Light. The waves were fairly tame that morning, but we still took it slow to conserve gas. We planned to spend the night at a marina in Luddington, where we could see the Badger again. A 1950s era, steam engine car ferry, which we encountered entering the harbor of Manitowoc, WI.

S. S. Badger
The wind picked up, creating bigger waves, which kept us at our slow pace. The hazy sky made the sightseeing bland, not as crisp as the previous days. But even with these conditions we were able to admire the dunes marking the shoreline of Lake Michigan.

After lunch, we were closing in on our destination. I had a bit of a headache, and was beginning to wonder if it was such a good idea to anchor offshore in 1-2 feet waves, while we wandered up to the lighthouse.

Les thought it was doable. I was hesitant. I was in unknown territory. Was it okay to anchor offshore from a state park? Would we get in trouble? (Irrational fears, I know.) But my biggest question centered on a trust issue? Would the anchor hold?

We dropped the anchor in three feet of turbulent water. The boat was rocking erratically and I was panicking. The boat was doing its job. The waves were being waves, but I just didn’t believe that the anchor would hold the boat in one spot. Les reassured me that it would be fine. So I reluctantly climbed off the boat into the lake and waded to shore, while our dear boat was tossing in the waves.
 
I revoiced my concern about whether the anchor would really hold. Les nonchalantly remarked, “It held the last sixty times we used it, why would it not hold this time?”
 
I mumbled, “I dunno.” We continued our walk up the beach to the lighthouse.

We climbed up the 130 steps, enjoyed spectacular views, saw our boat rolling gently on the waves from high above the lake . After viewing the vast landscape, we climbed back down the 130 steps, and headed back along the shore to the boat, which was right where we left it.
 

 

 
Our anchor held!

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Abide:To Continue in a Place

As the 31 Day Challenge comes to an end, I have decided to bring to a close the Intuion Diaries series. Over the next three days, join me as I retell the last days of our summer adventure, boating around Lake Michigan. To read from the beginning of the series check out the tab, Intuition Diairies.

The last week of vacation offered many opportunities to Abide, Trust and linger in a Retreat state of mind.



The crew’s life…consisted of long monotonous days
interrupted by times of extreme excitement and danger.”
(A description on a sign outside of the U.S. Life Saving Service building
 in historic Elberta, MI)
 
 

Cruising in a boat can become monotonous, but we were always on the alert for changes in the weather.

From Charlevoix, we planned on travelling about forty miles and anchoring off near South Manitou Island, part of the Sleeping Bear Dunes National Park. We were getting reports that the wind was about to switch from NE to SW and get stronger. (It amazes me how aware one needs to be of wind direction, when travelling upon the water. I never knew the wind changed direction so often.)

Heading south along the eastern shore of Lake Michigan, we stopped at Leland for lunch, to buy groceries and to tour their historic Fishtown.
 
 

 
Nestled on the inlet these little shanties still remain, a gathering place where fisherman for many years processed their daily catch. Today, the buildings house trendy little shops. One of the huts still smokes fish and sells it to the tourists.

Upon arriving in Leland, the harbor master mentioned that the weather was going to turn snotty. It’s a sailor term that means the winds are picking up and you best take refuge or be ready for some rough seas. This was disappointing because we really wanted to anchor out by South Manitou Island.

Because of the weather, I was getting a bit snotty. I had imagined a day of picking up groceries and then claiming our own private beach to soak up the sun, while Les grilled some burgers.

Thankfully, I have been abiding in God’s grace long enough to ask for help to redirect my attitude.

After my fussing was put aside, we  enjoyed a nice afternoon. In Leland, we ate at an outside café. I devoured a delicious tuna melt. Then we walked around the shops in Fishtown. We went our separate ways for a bit, and I met two interesting women to talk to about art and such. One a clerk at the Fishtown Pottery shop,(where they sold unique tile art made by Sporck), and the owner-creator of Fishtown Sail Co., where she re-purposed old sailcloth into cool tote bags.

Les and I met back at the grocery, stocked up and decided to brave the weather and go out to the island. On our way, we saw a lighthouse, a shipwreck from 1960, and the immense sand dunes. We anchored for awhile behind the island, wading from the boat to the beach with our chairs. Les napped, while I read. The wind was still in our favor at the time, but we didn’t feel safe spending the night out there, so late afternoon, we headed back closer to shore.
 

 
South Manitou Island, MI

 

We cruised along the shore, enjoying the views of Sleeping Bear Dunes, despite the choppy water due to the increased winds.

As the day faded, we were faced with another decision. To take our chances of being whipped by the wind all night in an unprotected harbor or travel ahead to a more secure harbor, another twenty miles ahead. (In rough water, we average 8 mph, so we knew we’d be chasing the sunset to make it to the next port before dark.)

We chose to keep going. As the sun went to bed for the night, we anchored in the harbor near the town of Frankfurt. We were able to drop anchor with just enough fading sunlight to see what we were doing.
 
Instead of the planned forty mile day, we covered ninety-six miles. It was a long, fulfilling day, abiding in God’s grace and asking for wisdom along the way.
 
 
And I will pray the Father, and He will give you another Helper, that He may abide with you forever—
John 14:16 NKJV

 

 

 

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Anticipation: Visualization of a Future Event; Expectation

In the morning, LORD, you hear my voice;
in the morning I lay my requests before you
and wait expectantly.
 Psalm 5:3 NIV
 
The Intuition Diaries

 (A Wednesday series about our summer adventures on Lake Michigan.)

 
On every adventure, trip or vacation expectations run high. In preparation for our summer boat trip, we did some advance research and planning. We sought the advice and experience of friends and family; veteran travelers all. The most lauded and anticipated port of interest by far had to be the non-negotiable, have to go, without a doubt, everyone loves it: Mackinac Island.
 
 

It was the only place on our itinerary, where we had advance reservations at the marina. We chose to stay at their marina, rather than take a ferry over. Before our arrival, we were pleased with our decision to dock there, because then we would be able to enjoy the island at our leisure, rather than having our time dictated by the ferry schedule.

On the afternoon, we left St. Ignace, after two days of repose; we were ready for the zenith of our adventure. We raced the ferries across the bay and found our way into the marina. Our first hint that things might not go as expected, was when we pulled up to the fixed dock, which loomed five feet above the side of our boat. Thankfully, a marina staff person helped us dock and tie up the boat. Most of the other marinas had floating docks at eye level, which absorbed the rocking of the boat. On a fixed dock our boat swung like a hammock in the wind all day and all night. All that motion was overwhelming, and not conducive to reading or relaxing.
 
 

We arrived late afternoon, so we showered and got ready for a special date night. We were celebrating a belated 25th anniversary gift to ourselves. Les called a carriage to carry us to our destination. We dressed up for the first time on our vacation, ready to enjoy an evening together at the Woods restaurant, highly recommended. As we waited under the shadow of the impressive Fort Mackinac, a horse pulled surrey pulled up to take my beloved and I to our fancy meal. My fantasy of a carriage built for two, was replaced with a cart of upholstered seats to accommodate about 16 people. I thought, that’s okay, I’m sure that the island charm will overtake my disappointment. We climbed aboard, and proceeded to ride through Main Street.

We were overwhelmed by tourists. Tourists standing in line for dinner. Tourists piling off the ferries. Rows and rows of rental bike shops. Bikes parked along the street, which the horse carriages were weaving around and past to get to their stops. Crowded streets lined with t-shirt shops intermingled with fudge shops. My expectations were shocked into a realization that we were in the midst of a scene that reminded us more of a busy day at a theme park, rather than a quaint island retreat.

It was like we entered this famed tourist location from backstage. Once my expectations were slightly adjusted, we enjoyed the conversation with our fellow passengers, on our way to the Woods restaurant, located deeper into the island, away from the commercialism of Main Street. The family we rode with was visiting their niece, a culinary school graduate, who was working in the Grand Hotel kitchen dipping thousands of strawberries in chocolate for the esteemed guests. She seemed genuinely pleased with her summer experience.

Upon arriving at The Woods, we were ushered into an idyllic setting that was part European hunting lodge and part 1950s supper club. Our wait staff seated us near a huge stone fireplace, which wasn’t lit because Michigan was having a hot summer like the rest of the Midwest. No sweaters needed or fires. The white linen table clothes were covered in white butcher paper, so children could color with the crayons provided, while waiting for dinner to arrive. A man played quiet music at a baby grand, while we looked over our menus. We were served a basket of crackers and fresh rolls with a side of the best orange marmalade infused whipped butter, while our food was being prepared. For a starter, I tried the whitefish and corn chowder. Amazingly cheesy! We both order sumptuous steaks. And for dessert we went overboard, Les had ice cream rolled in pecans and chocolate sauce. I devoured one of the best ever crème brulee, garnished with a white chocolate-dipped ginger cookie, alongside a flayed strawberry and mint leaf.
 
 

On the way back down to town, we had the horse-drawn taxi to ourselves. Our driver had been spending his summers working this job for 27 years. He answered our questions about the island. He took us down a steep drive, where huge mansions on Wonder View Lane look out on the Mackinac Bridge. We passed the Grand Hotel porch, where after 6pm, gentleman must sport a tie and ladies, no trousers, please. Finally, a glimpse at the island all my friends had raved about, I was beginning to see why they loved their time here so much. We definitely absorbed the beautiful gardens and spectacular views.

The driver admitted that the life behind the scenes was challenging. Security of personal items was a problem. He had to use a permanent marker to label his portable A/C with his name, because it sometimes would wander off into another employee’s room. He found labeling it with his name, made it easier for him to reclaim it. He dropped us off at the marina, and we meandered down the lane to see a little more of the island before going to bed. The lane was dotted with period buildings and condos that blended well with the scenery and more views of the Mackinaw strait. A golf course and a lodge and bikes parked in a circle. One woman looked perplexed. She kept looking at the bike in her hands and the ones in the rack. They all looked the same, so we guessed she was uncertain about whether she picked out the correct bike.

We were rocked to sleep on the boat. We woke early in the morning to ride our own bikes around the island. It was a bit overcast, breezy and yet a pleasant ride. We found a place to pose our bikes for a picture, admired a natural rock arch and marveled that we were cycling right next to the crashing waves of Lake Huron. For breakfast, we chose a place in town. It was called the Huron St. Pub and Grill, I noticed the night before that it advertised breakfast, lunch and dinner. We had the restaurant to ourselves. Everyone else was at the Pancake House or Starbucks. I had the best ever pancakes with cinnamon sugar butter and cheesy scrambled eggs. Les had their Western omelet. If you ever get to the island, we recommend both the Woods for an excellent dinner and this pub for breakfast. After breakfast, we did stroll through some of the shops. The bookstore attracted us, where we browsed the books on local lore. Then we hunted down some postcards and a T-shirt or two.
 
 

We pulled out of the marina before lunch to make our way down to the eastern shore of Lake Michigan. More to anticipate, more to explore and more expectations to weigh.  
 
 
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
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Renew: Restore to Freshness or Vigor

 
Create in me a clean heart, O God,
And renew a steadfast spirit within me.
Psalm 51:10 NKJV
 
 
 

 The Intuition Diaries

At about the midpoint of our trip around Lake Michigan, we spent a couple days in St. Ignace. We had been travelling seven days non-stop from port to port. It seemed like time to regroup.  So we spent an afternoon, a whole day and a morning in St. Ignace. Our choice to stay in this small town across from Mackinac Island was purposeful. We wanted a slower pace.

 

Our first morning in St. Ignace, we lingered over a pancake, bacon and egg breakfast prepared on our galley stove.  After breakfast, we pulled the bikes off the top of the boat to explore the town.  We were looking for a historic site, where Father Jacques Marquette, a Jesuit priest, founded a mission in the early 1600s.   It was strange, I knew his name from the state park over in Illinois, but I felt like I knew him from my childhood. When I read one of the plaques at his memorial site, I remembered doing a report on Jolliet and Marquette, the explorers. Now as an adult I was putting the historical and spiritual pieces together.
 
 
It also made me happy to know that Marquette was a member of the Jesuit order founded by St. Ignatius, my newest spiritual mentor. (I’m reading An Ignatian Adventure by Fr. Kevin O’ Brien). In my ever deepening quest to learn more about the early church fathers, I am planning to study the Spiritual Exercises that St. Ignatius developed as part of his devotion to Jesus.

 

We rode our bikes to a park that overlooked the lake and the Mackinac Bridge. At the Marquette memorial, we recalled that he and Jolliet were the first Europeans to map the Mississippi River and explore the surrounding land. They left from St. Ignace, following the Fox River from Green Bay and eventually came to the Mississippi.

 

As we studied the map on the floor of the memorial site, we noted that we were visiting on the same date that Marquette and Jolliet turned back  for St. Ignace. (They stopped near the Arkansas River on July 17, 1673).  I had Les stand on the map to show where we usually put our boat in the Mississippi River in St. Charles County.

 

After this serendipitous discovery, we returned to the boat. We had the whole day ahead of us, so what would we do?
 
Clean the boat!

Insect guts were clinging to the outside; dirt and sand were accumulating in the back. So we hauled everything off the back. Les scrubbed. I sprayed with the hose. We felt invigorated and refreshed. It felt good to have everything clean and stowed away in an orderly fashion again. Living on a boat inspires simple living.

 

 

Chores took less time. We were eating fresh produce from the farmer’s market. Instead of collecting souvenirs, we were gathering memories. While on this vacation, I wanted to clean. I wanted to buy carrots to peel and cut up, rather than buy the prepackaged baby carrots. It’s amazing to me how a mundane task can clear your mind and invigorate your soul.

 

 
While peeling carrots, I had more time to ponder life.  On vacation, I set aside time to read and to contemplate.  As we returned home, I hoped this time of renewal would spill over into our daily life and work a day week.

 

Renew in me a steadfast (firmly fixed on Jesus) spirit way of living, O LORD!
 
 
 

 
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