This morning I find myself staring at a picture hanging on the wall in our study. It shows a ship at sea struggling with a violent storm. It is a gorgeous work of art that we found on a long ago trip to Chatham on Cape Cod, Massachusetts. Gazing at the ship in distress elicits so many emotions in my present day mind. My head is filled with a mixed bag of emotions each vying for ascendancy when what I really want is calm.
Our trip to Chatham was glorious in every possible way. Our eldest grandson, Andrew, who was just advancing from childhood to adolescence at the time accompanied us on our journey to Boston and parts nearby. We had been reveling in the history of that part of the United States and its many connections to my husband Mike’s ancestry. We had already visited Plymouth where Stephen Hopkins, a member of the family tree, had first landed in America along with Puritans running from religious persecution in Europe. We had also visited Salem where another ancestor, Roger Conant, had founded a settlement in 1626. Now it was time to visit a place filled with members of the Nickerson family, yet another branch on our family tree.
The town of Chatham was awash with tourists and hydrangea bushes blooming with stunning blue flowers. We drove through the quaint village toward the beach where the hot sand burned our feet when we removed our shoes and the water was so cold that we were only able to stay in it for brief moments before feeling a chill run through our bodies. We chose instead to simply walk along the shoreline in our shoes talking about the deep topics that were swirling through Andrew’s head as he attempted to navigate the changes occurring in his young life. It was then that I understood the depth of his character and the earnestness of his desire to live a good and meaningful life.
After a time we felt the pangs of hunger and set out in search of seafood. The location we found was delightful and we filled our bellies with fish so fresh that it seemed to have been caught that very day. We laughed and continued our deep dive into the nature of humans and the conundrum of how we interact with one another. We spoke of history both generally and personally and of the mistakes and progress that people make during a lifetime. It was quite a philosophical and meaningful talk that I shall never forget.
A stroll through the town led us to a little shop where we found the work of art that now hangs in our study. At first we thought that perhaps the piece was a bit more expensive than we had thought. Then while Andrew and Mike were distracted with other places I returned to the shop and asked for a business card where I wrote down the title of the picture. Once I returned home from the trip my thoughts returned to the ship in dangerous seas again and again. Finally I called the shop and ordered if for Mike’s birthday. The lovely piece has hung on the wall ever since, reminding us of the good times we shared with Andrew but also of the dangers that come like storms into every life.
We have navigated through the sunny days and the storms since that time. We never quite know what each day, each week, each month, each year will bring. We guide our ship as best we can knowing full well that deadly waves may come to rob us of our security. We stay on alert while doing our best to enjoy the good times when the world seems to be perfect.
Andrew is a grown man now, managing the engineering of constructing schools, medical centers and hospitals. He graduated from college during the height of the pandemic so there were no graduation ceremonies or parties for him. He spent his first months on his job working remotely from an apartment that he rarely left. He was one of those young people marked by the devastation of the virus but somehow he managed to stay healthy and keep moving forward while still wondering and worrying about the ways that we humans mistreat each other. He has carried on stoically while also diving deeply into questions about justice, climate, human rights. He has kept his ship floating even through some devastating storms.
I suppose that Andrew has a personality like mine. Neither of us are capable of just ignoring all of the hubbub of the world as though it has nothing to do with us. We see ourselves as citizens of a global community with duties to stand up for those fighting for justice. It does not seem to be enough to simply observe happenings without becoming actively involved. We both carefully monitor the pulse of the world and ask ourselves what we might do to keep the ship of state aright. It can be a difficult way to live because being always happy go lucky is not an option for us.
The storms in my life come in the form of witnessing the suffering of others. i cannot turn away or simply walk by without making an effort to help. Sometimes that simply means listening to what people have to say, learning new points of view, advocating for the underserved and voiceless. I see the world through many eyes and often find myself at odds with people that I love who believe that the world has always been filled with problems about which there is little we might do. They advise me to stay in my own backyard and take care of myself before venturing into problems that do not directly affect me.
Perhaps they are right, but empathy and the urge to set things right seems to be baked into my DNA. I don’t have the right constitution to party on the deck of my ship when I see storm clouds ahead. Lately the sky seems quite dark indeed. I sense that storms are brewing all over the world and I want to be prepared.
All It Takes Is A Little Love 