Thanks to COVID, this past summer vacation was more 鈥渟ome-are vacation鈥� 鈥� as in, 鈥渟ome-are鈥� and 鈥渟ome-are not鈥�. (If you like that, it鈥檚 yours.) But we did manage to get away for a week and a half with family at a friend鈥檚 lake-side cottage in Ontario.
Now, to me, 鈥渃ottage鈥� conjures up Yeats鈥� image of a 鈥渟mall cabin 鈥� of clay and wattles made鈥� with thatched roof and rambling garden. This is a 鈥渃ottage鈥� the way Sir Laurence Olivier was an 鈥渁ctor鈥�; eight-bedrooms for 17 people and four generations.
The experience left me wondering what I stories I should tell friends who couldn鈥檛 get away. Should I say how great it was, or spare their feelings?
Consider two scenes involving a kayak. In one, I鈥檓 out in the early morning mist: aSevenexperience. In the other, I swerve to avoid a water-snake, run into a submerged tree, capsize and spend the next half-hour trying to get back in. Less Group of Seven and more Wayne and Shuster.
Oddly, I鈥檇 be more likely to talk about the second one.听
Is it just me, or do people feel they need to apologize for taking a vacation? Many people tend to accentuate the negative: 鈥淚t rained one day on Maui鈥� 鈥� 鈥淎gh! The mosquitos!鈥濃�� 鈥淭alk about听丑耻尘颈诲!鈥�听鈥� or, as Mark Twain wrote in听Innocents Abroad听about constantly hearing about Michelangelo while travelling in Italy,听鈥淓nough! Lump the whole thing! Say that the Creator made Italy from designs by Michael Angelo听[sic]!鈥�.听
For me, otherwise wonderful, tale-filled trips have spawned 鈥渄owner stories鈥澨齦ike: getting robbed in London (1983); nearly losing my wife over a 30-foot embankment while mountain-biking at Lake Tahoe (2009); getting lost听en route听to a family dinner in Florence (2017); and both of us getting flipped dangerously by unexpected waves on Maui (2018).
Are we really sparing people鈥檚 feelings by downplaying our enjoyment, especially when so many people can鈥檛 get away due to COVID? Or are we being actually passive-aggressive, hoping for responses like, 鈥渨ell, at least you were in London/Florence/Maui/Tahoe鈥�. Aren鈥檛 we actually saying, without actually saying it, 鈥淚 had a vacation and you didn鈥檛 so yar-boo-sucks to you.鈥�?
For a Christian, we鈥檙e supposed to promote hope in the face of tough times. Sharing good news, nice things that have happened to us, is a reminder to others that there is another side of this mountain we鈥檝e been climbing, and we鈥檝e seen it. Things will never be the way they were 鈥� and frankly, 鈥渢he way they were鈥� wasn鈥檛 all that great, was it? 鈥� so as we adjust to the 鈥渘ew normal鈥�, we need all the good news we can get.听
That includes saying, 鈥淚t was a great vacation!鈥�, so others can share that joy and find reason for hope.听
And so 鈥� What I Did On My Vacation. A pale blue kayak glides noiselessly across a flat-calm lake; early morning mist sits just below the treetops; Pachelbel鈥檚 鈥淐anon鈥� plays in my head, as droplets from my paddle mark time. Suddenly, a cacophony of loons breaks the silence: ten of them, 50 metres in front. One by one, they dive and disappear; one pair stays above, 鈥渟norkelling鈥�. Suddenly, two of the others appear noiselessly just behind me, and almost as suddenly the other eight surface together. They all cruise, silently, towards and past my friend鈥檚 cottage dock. I glide after them. Beautiful, eh?
The lake will still be there. So will the loons, jumping fish, misty mornings and kayaks to glide noiselessly. The pandemic will not. Stories like this can help us 鈥� and others 鈥� make it to that day.
Drew Snider听is a former pastor at Gospel Mission on Vancouver's Downtown East Side, and has been a guest speaker at churches in BC. He writes about the people and events in his e-book, 鈥楪od At Work: A Testimony of Prophecy, Provision and People Amid Poverty鈥�. (available at online bookstores)
You can read more articles on our interfaith blog, Spiritually Speaking, HERE
Photo by听听辞苍听
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