These are the last few days of July, and it feels like this has been the oddest summer ever. Nothing seems in its right place. I’m working from home, the kids’ plans have all been canceled, and we haven’t been inside a restaurant in over three months. Our summers usually have a well-defined start and end, so without the usual milestones, it feels like we drifted in and can only hope that we will drift out. I’ve been having waves of nostalgia for summers past. I’ve spent most of mine in Maine, a place that I consider a second home.
Thirty years ago (I am old), I worked as a summer camp counselor. It was in the town of Ocean Park, Maine, a small town that started life as a Baptist summer community in the 19th century. The camp was right at the edge of the “downtown” section of Ocean Park, where the acres of forest make way for the streets full of little beach houses and scraggly lawns. As counselors, we’d leave our cabins in the pines to walk the kids down to the stretch of sandy beach or into town to eat at the soda fountain and shop at the general store. Less than a mile away was the delights of Old Orchard Beach with its semi-famous pier and amusement park. OOB, as it’s called, is like Ocean Park’s worldly cousin: beloved, but kinda sketchy. I love every kitschy inch of the place, but we stay in Ocean Park, which is more our speed.
For the last decade or so, my family has rented a beach house as close to the sand as we can afford so we can leave the car in the driveway and walk or bike everywhere. The first night we get there is always pizza night, but we hit the grocery store the next day. Cooking for a crowd can be tricky, but I love the family dinners we have while we’re there. Everyone is all around the same table, sometimes squished, and after dinner, it’s game time. The sun sets, the breeze gets cool, and we play or talk long into the night. The next day it’s up and out to the beach, but not with arms full of gear. It doesn’t have to be a military campaign when your house is yards away. I sometimes simply grab a towel and hit the ocean on my own.
The teenagers love the freedom of being in a little village, able to bike into town to check out the library or the shops without a parent hovering over them. My kids all perfected their biking skills in Ocean Park, able to ride around like I did when I was their age.
I love where we live, but its busy streets are not conducive to letting the kids roam free. The only taste of the kind of childhood I had that they get is when we go to Maine. And I think that’s part of what makes that kind of vacation special. There’s no rush, no hurrying, no tickets to buy, no departure times to fret over. The only stress is cleaning up on the day you go home. It’s the best kind of family vacation.
This year the pandemic canceled our beach vacation, but I’ve been ruminating on how to recreate that stress-free family time. We have weekly dinners al fresco at my parent’s house, which has been an enormous blessing. I had a friend over for a take-out dinner in my garden instead of our usual outing to the restaurant, and it was great. The only thing missing was somebody to clear the table. In these small ways, I’ve tried to bring that unique mix of relaxation and fellowship into a difficult time.
Sun + fresh air + friends and family = goodness. Our souls need more of this equation in hard times. We need more prayer, too, more fellowship with other believers. Our church has held Sunday services via video conference instead of streaming it. After the sermon, we break out into prayer groups, and it has saved my sanity. Being prayed over, especially by people strong in the faith, has got to be the best thing ever. We need more of this.
As we physically distance, our hearts naturally yearn for closeness. I think my pining for our family vacation is exactly this. I hope we can all find ways to come together while keeping safely apart. Blessings to all!
Christa MacDonald is a 2017 Carol Award finalist for contemporary Christian fiction. She began her writing career at the age of eleven, filling a sketchbook with poems and short stories. After publishing a few short pieces in her college’s literary magazine, she took a long hiatus during which she embarked on a few different careers, got married, had three kids, and renovated an old barn masquerading as a house. Her most recent work, The Redemption Road, finished the Sweet River Redemption series published by Mountain Brook Ink.
When not working or writing, Christa can be found ferrying her kids around, reading, or attempting something crafty. She and her family live along the coast of New England.
Katherine Grant takes the job at Sweet River Christian Academy hoping a small town in the wilderness of Maine will be a vacation from her high-powered career and a break from the emotional toll of the secrets she has buried deep. With the school director on a power trip and evidence of shady dealings, there’s nothing relaxing about it. Maybe it would be easier if she wasn’t so distracted by Captain MacAlister, the local cop she can’t get along with, yet can’t get out of her head. She didn’t trek up to the middle of nowhere to lose her heart.
Mac doesn’t need the kind of trouble he believes Katherine will bring. He’s got enough to deal with from poachers to drug crime. Mac has rules to maintain his faith, like avoiding the pull of an attractive woman who doesn’t fit his life. But when he meets Katherine, he’s drawn in by her intelligence and strength, despite getting burned by her quick temper.
When near tragedy strikes, Katherine reveals her feelings, and Mac doesn’t hesitate to respond. If only their scars, both seen and unseen, didn’t threaten to tear them apart. Two wary hearts must soften and two steel wills bend if they have any hope of making it down the broken trail to love.
