​Life in the Brackish Water

Deerpoint Lake (Sunrise)

It was so hot that you could feel the sweat trickling down your back. If I had been wearing a shirt, it would have been sticking to me, but I was twelve or so and my wardrobe for the summer consisted of a pair of cut off’s and tennis shoes.

On this particular hot July afternoon, my Grandpa Tharpe and I were heading back to the house from Dearpoint Lake. We said we had gone there to fish, but actually we had gone there to get away from my Granny as she prepared for the coming family reunion to be held at her house. Between the cooking and the coming guests, she was nervous as a the proverbial long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs, and she let it out by being nasty to Grandpa and me from time to time. On account of that, we decided we needed a break, so we took off fishing.

Now Dearpoint Lake is really neat. You see, it is situated just a few miles from the coast of the Gulf of Mexico. As a matter of fact, it is separated from Panama City Bay by only a dam. It has one of those dams that has a spillway which is always running, so the water on one side is fresh and on the other it is brackish. That is it's a mixture of fresh and salt water.

Now from what I have learned in school and from observation, brackish water is teaming with life. Life that can live nowhere else can live in this strange mixture of waters. If you ever get a chance, go down to the salt marshes on the coast and see what I mean. Unless I am mistaken, Murrell’s Inlet, or at least the marshes that surround it, is made up of brackish water for the most part; and those of you who have been there, know the life it holds.

Well, at that time in my life, as it is with most budding young men, I was having some difficulties with my Dad. Nothing big mind you, but I was resentful of him being gone all the time. You see, he worked for General Electric at that time and was gone a lot, but I wanted him near, to play ball and fish and to do all the things that boys love to do with their Dads.

In truth, I wanted him to be like my Grandfather who always seemed to have time for me. When I was at Grandpa’s house, he always seemed available. He always seemed near, seldom scolding, seldom correcting. In truth I resented my Father for not being as available and as forgiving as was my Grandpa.

So in that my Grandpa and I were very close, I told him about my feelings. Make that, he egged me on until I told him what he already knew.

So it was that on the way home from fishing on that July afternoon that he decided to try and explain what fatherhood was to me.
 
            Now my Grandpa wasn't much on words. Actions were his usual teaching method, but this time he told me something that stuck.

            First of all he told me that being a Daddy was like always living in the fresh water.
You got to play most of the time. Everything tasted good. As a Daddy you were always able to make everybody happy. You were always there to play ball, to take walks, to do whatever came to mind. Being a Daddy was fun and exciting.

Then he told me that being a father was like living in the ocean. The water was salty and difficult to drink. You were forever trying to fight the surf to get things done. Life as a father was seldom fun. It was usually difficult and tiring. Playing ball was forbidden. Walks were scarce, and even though you fought with the current to bring life to your family, the fight was seldom appreciated because they were not out in the water with you. They were waiting on the shore. Life as a Father was difficult, to say the least.

Then he told me that life as a Dad was like life in the brackish water.  He said that in the brackish water there was a good mixture of the two. There was fun and games and hard work and responsibility. He said that life was to be found in the brackish water.

Grandpa told me that when I became a Father I would need to swim for the brackish water as fast as I could. He said that the undertow of the ocean was far greater than that of the fresh water and that if I wasn't careful, I would be overtaken by the responsibilities of fatherhood and neglect what was really important.

He told me that if I wasn't careful I would sacrifice life for livelihood. He was quick to point out that both were needed but that maintaining the mixture, while being hard to do, was the essence of life.

He continued to explain to me that my Dad was doing his best to raise three children in a world which was constantly changing and that from time to time the ocean would pull my Dad under as it had my Grandpa in a similar time of his life.

My Grandpa explained that he was now free of the burdens of many family responsibilities and that was why he was able to do what he knew my Dad so longed to do with me.
 
In that few minutes with my Grandpa, on that sweltering summer’s day, my life was changed. His words of true wisdom changed my life forever.

I continued to wish for more time with my Dad, but I at least understood, as much as a twelve-year-old can, the reasons for his absence; and I was therefore able to enjoy his presence all the more.

For you Fathers, Daddy’s and Dads out there, I pray often. Fatherhood is no easy job. But our job it is. The little ones are watching you. Don’t let them down.
 
Love,  Pastor Tony 

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Deerpoint Lake (Sunset)