Summer Vacation Journal
Mary Elizabeth Ilg
Co-Director, Benedictine Center
On Monday, August 15, 2022, the Feast of the Assumption, I drove 200 miles north with my mother to a favorite summer resort on Leech Lake, near Walker, Minnesota (my mother’s home town). She was going to her High School Class of 1951 reunion later that week and we had planned to stay together at the resort to enjoy the last days of summer.
I have stayed at this resort many times over the past decade with my family, enjoying the fine view of the trees, sparkling waves, and the wonderful swimming in the clear, deep water of Leech Lake. (Despite its name, there really are no leeches. There used to be, years ago, but they were not a problem for me, ever. They do not stick to you. They just swim by, silently, a black ribbon in the water.) Some distance out from the shore there are several islands, also very pleasant to behold in the morning light and red evening sunsets: Bear Island, Pipe Island, and Little Pipe Island, which is just a mound of rocks where many white seagulls gather.
The previous week, both up here and at home, the weather had been perfect: a long stretch of eighty-degree sunny days. Now, for the week of our vacation, the forecast did not look so good. Rain and storms were predicted for two of our precious seven days away. I wondered what we would do, trapped in the cabin for days with the rain pouring down. I wanted to swim. I wanted to kayak. I wanted to have a sunny! fun! vacation with laughter and good times. What I experienced was something quite different.
I was able to swim and enjoy the beach on Tuesday and Wednesday, but by Thursday, there was definitely something brewing, rumbling far out across the lake. It had rained in the night. The morning sky was dark. I sat with my coffee and decided that I better get outside before the deluge started and I would be stuck indoors all day.
I walked down to the dock. It was a long dock, far out on the water, with a fancy new bench. I had a good view of both islands. From the west, a threatening storm was approaching.
The rain started blowing in. The storm was moving slowly and I could see it, the formations of clouds, with striations of indigo and gray and white. The air was changing, with undulating temperatures from cool to moist to balmy, almost tropical. In one moment, a quick slice of coolness enveloped me; then I felt a sudden radiant warmth. It was as if I was inside the rain cloud; it was happening right over my head. It was a fantastic array of colors and moving patterns in the sky: light and dark, dove gray and soft blue.
I felt that God was showing this to me. God was giving me a front row seat to so much beauty and power. The wildness and majesty of creation. It was a privilege to be given such an intimate view of nature, the rain coming, the various colors of the clouds, being bathed in soft mist. Fine and gentle. Not at all harsh, not at all cold. It was exquisite. Then, I watched the gold horizon line appear, out past Bear Island. When the steady rain arrived, I went back inside to talk to my mother.
She made it to her high school class reunion the following day, despite having suffered a fall on the wet bathroom tile and injuring her shoulder. We continue on. We persevere. And I was able to swim a few more times later that week, when the sunny skies returned.
At St. Paul’s Monastery, one of our Benedictine core values is Awareness of God. We pray that you have had similar experiences of beauty and peace this summer. We invite you to come and see us at the Benedictine Center and reflect on them.
