"LOOK DAD THE SHORE"

The rain was falling in those relentless vertical sheets that can really only happen on the prairies. As I dug into the water and pushed my paddle deep to really get a bite, sweat poured from my forehead stinging my eyes and leaving that salty taste in my mouth. Up into the air the canoe rose leaving this eight year old hanging in mid air for what seemed like an eternity until, “bam” we would clear the wave and the front end would once again slam into the lake allowing my paddle to again dig into the water. Minutes turned into hours as we struggled to get off the lake and safely get back to the car and the safety of shore.

The day started out so differently. It as sunny and warm as we stuck camp and the 20 scouts readied themselves for the hour long trip across long lake in Alberta. Laughter was everywhere as they threw their tents, packs and numerous finds back into their canoes and pushed off from shore. The canoe camping trip had been a wonderful time of cold water fights and warm campfires, comfortable sleeping bags to take away the chill and great bear stories to bring it back. And through it all he was there, Dad. Not out front like some of the other dad’s were. Trying to be cool… trying to fit in. No he was just there. Quietly setting up the camp, making the meals and preparing for our next great adventure. And now with a prairie storm roaring down on us in seconds, we were in the one of the great adventures of our lives.

The crying was the most frustrating. Scouts that yesterday were the toughest in the pack were now…crying wishing to be anywhere else then in their canoe. Their dad’s equally loud as they asked for direction and loudly cursed the storm and quietly cursed my dad for getting them into this mess.

But there he sat, strongly and clearly giving direction to the other canoes how to follow in a tight pattern to minimize the effects of the waves. There he sat, wind and rain hitting his face with more and more velocity, with water running off the brim of his hat hitting his soaked jacket and disappearing. There he sat, a rock.

“Turn around and paddle David we need to set the pace…set an example.” So I turned and faced the storm. From where I was sitting I could see no other canoes, nor the shore, just the waves. From where I sat all the crying and shouting behind me somehow was covered over by the wind and the slap of the paddles. From where I sat all I could see was the waves and all I could hear was my Dad. “Stroke, stroke stroke….ok switch sides David…now again…stroke.”

Now thirty four years later I again hear the voice of my Dad. “Turn around a paddle David we need to set the pace…set an example.” His voice echoes from across the lake to my desk where I sit today, just a few days before my own Fathers Day and my children listening to this father as I face the storms of life and trust my heavenly father that he will get us home safely.

Dad turns eighty this year, his scouting days are over, “the ground is just too hard…” he says, but his influence remains. With his faith strong and his eyes fixed on the shore he pushes out once again into the last paddle of his life. Not knowing whether this one will be a long or short trip he has prepared for the trip that must come to all. His pack is ready, his heavenly father has made a way and his determination is set. Courage, strength and integrity are all safely stowed with him. Faith is his canoe and Love has provided him with all he needs. So, on this Fathers Day Dad, I promise to turn my face to the task at hand and paddle…no wavering, no crying, no hesitation, just faith, because somehow I know that’s what you would want.

Look Dad… the shore.

David Vincent Britten Wood went to be with his Lord on November 6th. 2005.
I have the paddle still.