Most days Tim and I wake early to walk along the Shores of Lake Superior. There is something sacred in being able to stroll together silently and watch the sun rise over this incredible lake. It is our prayer time on the Lake Walk.
In eighth grade earth science at Lincoln Park Middle School the kids have been learning about the formation of Lake Superior. I attend the class as a paraprofessional. I love what they are learning but I’m not sure the kids appreciate my enthusiasm. Wow, the lake was formed over 12,000 years ago by great sheets of ice and there were glaciers over two miles deep. Wow, there was a deep volcanic rift before the ice which is why Lake Superior is so deep. Wow, there was an ancient river system which the glacier followed flowing out to the Atlantic Ocean which is now our Great Lakes. Someday the kids may love the lake as much as their teacher Ms. B and I do.
Many years ago, I was part of a group of women led by Julie and Linda, that gathered the first Monday of every month at sunrise on the shores of Lake Superior. We would gather with our cups of steaming coffee to watch the sunrise at Brighton Beach. We would just sit and watch the light break through the horizon and then someone would offer a reading or a song. The time and temperatures varied with the seasons and yet we gathered each month for the dawn on Superior’s shore.
It was dawn by a lake when the Jesus called out the names of the disciples. He called out over the waves as the sun rose. And literally the son rose, the resurrected one came to them again at dawn at a seashore. Have you any fish he asks? No, they reply. Try the other side of the boat, Jesus cries back. They do and their nets are full to breaking. Jesus came one more time to say there is more even when you think there is isn’t.
The defeated disciples had gone back to what they knew, fishing on the Sea of Galilee. They had gone back to the way things were, but this rising son would not let them stay there. There are other beings to fish for, more love to share.
When they come ashore, they find that Jesus has made them breakfast. He is feeding them again with bread and fish over a charcoal fire. You can smell the goodness of his love and taste it. You can hear the waves lapping on the shore as they drag their boats onto the sand. They find unexpected hope for their journeys.
There is more for us too. More with the dawn of each day as we walk or sip our coffee. This sense of hope is something I’ve really needed in these days. I close with a poem by Gary Boelhower called, “Dance at Dawn”
Go out as far as you can
to sit alone on a stone throne
where you give up all the straight lines of your mind
in the dark quiet shiver an hour before dawn .
Set your eyes on that seam where water and sky
are stitched together in their great meeting
and when the fierce light tears the world wide
open for another day
dare to say your name
over the buckle and swell of waves
one sweet syllable of imperfect love
not proud but in full voice
unfastened from any small hopes or pains.
Send it free as a smooth stone skipping on the hammered blue
its singular dance glancing gold in the new light
for a bright brief breath.
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