Bikes, Boats, and Trees

Last week, Ken and I loaded our bikes onboard the “S.S. Badger” in Ludington, MI for a bicycling excursion with our friends Paul and Jacki. The 71-year-old “Badger” is the last coal-fired passenger steamship in operation in the U.S., ferrying up to 600 passengers and 180 vehicles back and forth across Lake Michigan. The summer day was perfect for our four-hour voyage, with blue skies and calm waters. The lake is so huge that the shoreline was out of sight for most of the journey, leaving a view of the vast, open water all around us.

We had to travel light, packing everything we needed for the overnight trip into our bike’s saddlebags. After an uneventful voyage, we landed in Manitowoc, WI and set off to explore. The city is a very bike-friendly, and we rode the beautiful Mariners’ Trail, a scenic path that goes right along Lake Michigan.

Before long, we came to a serendipitous surprise—the magnificent “West of the Lake Gardens” overlooking Lake Michigan. Pictures can’t convey how breathtaking this privately-owned estate is—and it’s free, and open to the public. I removed my shoes and walked barefoot in the soft, green grass. It was heavenly! I think Eden must have looked like this garden!

We got back on our bikes to explore more parks and beaches in the area before stopping for the night at our hotel in Two Rivers, WI. We ate several great meals on this trip, and even sampled the famous Wisconsin Cheese Curds.

Rain was forecast for the following day, but thankfully, we made it back to Manitowoc without getting wet. Once there, we visited the Wisconsin Maritime Museum, and toured the USS Cobia, a WWII era submarine. One of the museum’s displays chronicled the approximately 1,500 shipwrecks lying beneath Lake Michigan, including “The Phoenix,” which I featured in my novel “Waves of Mercy.”

It was a little unnerving to read about shipwrecks because the stormy weather had arrived with 6-to-8-foot waves by the time we were ready to re-board for the trip home. Rain lashed the ship, which rocked from side to side the entire way, making it a challenge for a land-lubber like me to walk without staggering. But we arrived safely home again, bringing lots of great memories with us.

One of my favorite sights on the trip was this enormous willow tree along the shoreline of the lake. It must be hundreds of years old, and has probably survived hundreds of storms in its lifetime. Psalm 1, which is one of my favorites, compares a righteous person to a thriving tree like this one, planted by the water.

The psalm says that “Blessed is the person who does not walk in the counsel of the wicked or stand in the way of sinners or sit in the seat of mockers.” It’s much too easy to follow the crowd, walking in the way of popular culture. It’s even easier to sit at our computers and join in with the mockers, ridiculing those we disagree with. But blessed is the person who doesn’t do those things. “His delight is in the law of the Lord, and on His law he meditates day and night.”

Someone asked Jesus which was the most important Law—the one we should meditate on day and night. He replied that we must love God with all our heart, soul, mind, and strength, and love our neighbor as ourselves. What would my life be like if I meditated on His words every morning and asked Him to help me love God with all that I am? And what if I asked how I can love my neighbor today? And my enemies? It’s increasingly clear that Christians have enemies in this world who mock us and seek to silence us. When I read the news headlines, fear washes over me like those powerful waves. But God is in control. Perhaps for every hour I spend reading the news, I should spend another hour in prayer!

The psalm ends with this promise: “The Lord watches over the way of the righteous, but the way of the wicked will perish.” When the storms of this world rage, those of us who are righteous in Christ Jesus will look just like that magnificent tree, “planted by streams of water, which yields its fruit in season and whose leaf does not wither. Whatever he does prospers.”  I long to stand tall and solid like that tree.

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A Sweet Aroma

We could smell the beautiful fragrance of lavender as soon as we stepped from the car. It drifted on the breeze and grew in strength as we walked from the parking lot toward the rows and rows of pastel-colored plants on the Lavender-Life farm in Caledonia, Michigan. We were told that the plants were past their peak, and that we’d missed the harvest festival by one week. I couldn’t imagine it smelling any more beautiful than it did.

I don’t know about you, but I often don’t notice smells unless they are unusually beautiful—like this farm—or potently horrible—like the pig farm we passed on the way here. Sitting on our back porch at home, we often smell the lovely aroma of evening campfires from the nearby state campground. Or the delicious smell of barbeque when our neighbors fire up their grill. Lately, though, we have noticed the faint stench of something dead in the vicinity of our back deck. We’ve searched and searched for a dead animal, but haven’t found it. The smell of death is always unwelcome, while the fragrance of roses or pine needles or lavender is invigorating.

Have you noticed that a smell can trigger memories? The scent of cigars always reminds me of my grandfather, who loved to smoke them. The smell of a new book brings memories of working in our village library where my mother was the librarian. Newly mown grass reminds me of long, lazy, summer days—even though I had to take a turn at mowing the grass when I was a kid.

Our sense of smell is amazing. I wasn’t one of the unfortunate people who lost their ability to smell when I had Covid, but I sympathize with them. Without smell, food loses its taste. At the lavender farm’s snack bar, we can sample lavender-infused lemonade, lavender scones, and lavender cheesecake. The gift shop offers multiple products, such as lotions, bath oils, and a lavender-scented candle to bring home. I love that one candle can fill our home with perfume—and maybe overpower the scent of death near our back porch. With the gorgeous fragrance of lavender all around us, it’s easy to understand why aromatherapy soothes and calms us when we’re stressed.

Fragrance is also an important part of worship in the Old Testament. After the flood in Genesis, Noah offered a sacrifice to God and “The Lord smelled the pleasing aroma and said in His heart; ‘Never again will I . . . destroy all living creatures” (Genesis 8:21). The pleasing aroma of the sacrifices became a regular part of Israel’s worship in the Tabernacle and later the Temple. Added to it was the specially-formulated incense that was burned daily in the Holy Place, and represented the prayers of the people ascending to heaven.

The same imagery is used of Christ in the New Testament where it says “Christ loved us and gave Himself up for us as a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God” (Eph 5:2). When the Philippian church took up a collection to share with those in need, Paul called their gift “a fragrant offering, an acceptable sacrifice, pleasing to God” (Phil 4:18). As members of Christ’s body, this is the picture of us that is shown in 2 Corinthians: “But thanks be to God, who always leads us in triumphal procession in Christ and through us spreads everywhere the fragrance of the knowledge of Him.” Just as the fragrant lavender plants fill the air with their aroma simply by growing and flourishing and flowering, we also can spread the knowledge of Christ like a beautiful fragrance wherever we go. “For we are to God the aroma of Christ among those who are being saved” (2:14-16). My words and actions can poison the air with the scent of death, or perfume it with Christ’s love. I hope the things I say and do spread a fragrance that’s as potent and soothing as a lavender farm.

Pause and inhale a deep breath . . . what do you smell? What memories or images does it bring to mind? Do you know someone whose presence in your life is like sweet perfume?

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Course Correction

            Ken and I traveled halfway across the country on vacation recently, using our car’s GPS navigation system to keep us on course. Along the way, if we made a wrong turn or took an unexpected detour, or got off at a different exit, the system got us back on track so we could reach our destination. Our old GPS used to say “recalculating” (in a rather annoyed voice) whenever we made a mistake, so we knew right away that we had goofed. But this new system is more patient and doesn’t comment on our errors as it quietly guides us back to the right road.

            While driving those long hours, Ken and I reminisced about our long journey together for these (nearly) 54 years. We both admitted to making some dumb decisions over the years, whether in haste, or fear, or perhaps a lack of trust in God. We wished we had chosen differently, or had waited, or had asked for advice and help. Yet in hindsight, we saw that God, like our GPS, faithfully got us back on track, even when it meant navigating some scary, bumpy roads.

            My most glaring wrong turn came after I hastily signed a one-year teaching contract. I had finished writing my first novel and had found a publisher who was interested in it. But after I’d waited nearly a year for a contract, the publishing company decided to reject my book. I knew it could take another year, at least, to get that far with another publisher, so I put the manuscript in a drawer and signed a teaching contract. I didn’t pray about it or ask anyone’s advice. To be honest, I was angry with God for the long wait and discouraging result, so I gave up trying to become a writer. I started walking in the wrong direction because I hadn’t yet realized that God had called me to be a writer. It was His chosen destination for me, and He was determined to get me back on track.

            Three times during that year of teaching I ended up in the doctor’s office—with three different illnesses that got progressively more painful. Each time, the doctor told me my symptoms were the result of stress. Several different factors in that school system made that teaching job one of the most stressful experiences I’ve ever had. But I finally got the hint. It was time for a course correction.

            I thought of Jonah, who traveled in the opposite direction from God’s calling and ended up in the belly of a whale.

Even from there, God could “recalculate” Jonah’s journey and get him back on track after Jonah repented. I didn’t want to end up inside a whale, so I started writing again while I waited for my teaching contract to end. I began to see success when several of my magazine articles were published. You know how the story ends—with 30 published books, 2 novellas, and 2 non-fiction books. All by the grace and leading of God.

            Ken and I thought of a few more examples of God’s course corrections that have occurred throughout our married life. Those detours and the lessons we learned from them are much easier to see in hindsight. But our journey could have been much smoother if we hadn’t taken a wrong turn in the first place. In one of my favorite promises from the Psalms, God offers this guidance: “I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go; I will counsel you and watch over you” (Psalm 32:8). I just need to remember to ask, and then set my navigation system to His destination.

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Coffee or Tea? Which Will it Be?

As newly-weds, my husband and I lived in Bogota, Colombia for two years, a country renowned for its great coffee. I hadn’t acquired a taste for coffee yet, but oh, it smelled SO good! At one of my husband’s orchestral concerts, they served tiny cups of coffee at intermission, and I decided to try one. Did I mention how GOOD it smelled? The coffee was what the Colombians called tinto, and what I’ve since learned is a gigantic wallop of caffeine in a miniature cup. I don’t think I slept for a week!

Years later, we moved to Canada, where my husband performed with another orchestra. My Canadian friends introduced me to tea—not the kind that comes in little bags with dangling strings, but real, looseleaf tea, brewed in a pot. I’ve been swimming against the tide of coffee drinkers ever since.   

To me, the main difference between tea and coffee is a matter of speed. We use coffee to wake up and get us going in the morning, brewing it quickly in pod machines and transporting it in large, insulated to-go cups as we race to work or drive the kids to school. We speed to the drive-through at the coffee shop and speed away. We invite friends to “grab a quick cup of coffee” with us.

Tea is entirely different. A true tea drinker seldom goes to the drive-through for a morning cup because to make tea properly takes time. First, the teapot must be warmed, then the water is boiled before being poured over the leaves. It’s left to steep for a few minutes, covered with a tea-cozy to keep it warm. Then you sit and sip from a porcelain teacup and have a leisurely talk with friends. No one invites a friend for a “quick cup of tea.”

The point of coffee is to get you going, usually at a rapid pace so you can multi-task. The point of tea is to slow you down, to relax. It’s something you linger over with good friends and maybe a tiered serving dish with tiny sandwiches and scones. We’ve all heard of tea-sandwiches but I’ve never heard of coffee sandwiches. Coffee is a fast-food, tea is a slow one. It transports us to the past, to a slower, less-demanding pace of life. And yet . . .

My newest book, “All My Secrets,” which debuted this month, takes place during the Gilded Age in the Stanhope family’s 75-room mansion. Nineteen-year-old Adelaide Stanhope lives with rules and expectations for women in her social class that are very restrictive. For example, these are some of the rules of etiquette for an afternoon tea party (borrowed from “The Essential Handbook of Victorian Entertaining” by Autumn Stephens):

  • Ladies retain their hats throughout the tea, and likewise their gloves. But tea gowns may be worn without a corset.
  • Request no more than one or two spoonsful of sugar with your tea. Although you may customarily take more, it is ill-bred to do so at someone else’s table.
  • It is not proper to drink with a spoon in the cup, or to quite drain the cup.
  • Don’t allow the spoon to clink noisily against the cup as you stir your tea.
  • Do not extend your small finger upward; this bespeaks of arrogance, not refinement.
  • Do not peek over the cup at others while you are sipping. Keep your eyes lowered.
  • Do not overindulge. Black tea, when taken to excess, so acts on the nervous system as to produce sleeplessness and insomnia, and finally makes a complete wreck of its victim.

This is just a small sampling of the rules, but you get the picture. There are even more rules for social calls, luncheons, and dinner parties.

I’m glad we have more freedom than our Victorian ancestors did. Yet as I was writing this novel, I found many parallels to our lives in the Twenty-first Century. Young women like Adelaide—and even older women like me—face a lot of important decisions when it comes to living our best lives. What do we value the most? Love? Money? Family? Work? Faith? What compromises are we willing to make? And how does following Christ fit into it all? These are much more important decisions than whether to have coffee or tea!

The three women in “All My Secrets” are searching for guidance, just like we are. The best approach, I believe, is to let our lives be guided by scripture, not by etiquette books or popular opinion. As the Psalmist wrote, “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom; all who follow His precepts have good understanding” (Psalm 111:10). The Bible is the best handbook, the only handbook, we will ever need.

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A Lesson From The Trees

Every fall, when the green trees of summer turn into barren branches, I always think of my sister, Bonnie, who passed away in November, some years ago. The afternoon was gray and bleak as we stood at her graveside, and the trees all around us, clothed in black, seemed to be mourning with us. Her death felt so final. So permanent. Yet I knew if I returned there in the spring, those trees would be alive again, resurrected from the death of winter as the earth tilted back toward the sun’s life-giving warmth and light. The seasons serve as a reminder to me that Christ has conquered death. Like those trees, my sister Bonnie and other loved ones are still alive, awaiting the resurrection of their bodies at Christ’s return.

I sometimes wonder how Adam and Eve felt as the seasons changed from summer to fall to winter for the first time in their lives. God had said they would die if they ate the forbidden fruit, and during the first autumn they were banned from the garden, they experienced death for the first time. But the trees weren’t dead, they were simply waiting for spring. Adam lived to be 930 years old, so he had many opportunities to witness the cycle of seasons, and to watch springtime conquer the death of winter again and again, bringing hope.

There have been several small “deaths” in my life recently, that have brought an end to seasons in my life that I have enjoyed. A favorite vacation spot was destroyed by a hurricane, ending our yearly vacations there. Health issues for us and our friends forced changes to activities we’ve enjoyed. Changes in leadership and worship at our church caused me to leave and seek fellowship and worship someplace else. These are just small examples, but they are representative of the losses we all experience many times over in this life. One season comes to an end, and it seems like death has won. But God isn’t surprised by change. He can create new life from our losses if we turn to Him in trust.

I’m reminded of the story in the Book of Acts, when Christians began to be persecuted after the death of their first martyr, Stephen. The close fellowship they had enjoyed in Jerusalem came to an end, and the young church was scattered. Yet the death of the Jerusalem church brought about the birth of new churches all over the known world. The Apostle Philip traveled to Samaria with the Good News, and “there was great joy in that city” (Acts 8:8). Death brought new life.

All three of the main characters in my newest novel, “All My Secrets,” face change after the death of the family patriarch. His wife Sylvia wrestles with grief and loss, and the changes his death have brought to her life. She is offered this advice: “Change is never easy, is it? . . . But it’s the only certainty in life. And I think you may find that the challenge of doing something new will help you move forward.” None of us enjoy having our lives turned upside down, yet change is natural from the time we leave the womb until life’s end. It’s difficult to embrace something new if we’re still clinging to the old, becoming bitter about what we’ve lost. But as Sylvia will learn, the best path through grief is to accept the challenge of doing something new, allowing God to reshape us, and make us stronger. Death is not the end of the story. We can wait in hope that God will bring renewed life—perhaps in surprising ways—as we turn to His warmth and light.

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