I grew up in rural northwest Ohio and summers there were the best. Bonfires, motorcycle rides, fresh vegetables from the garden, swimming at the neighbor’s pond, grilling out, the sun setting over the vibrant fields of corn. But the best part, bar none, was time on the river in the ski boat.
The first boat in my memory, a Checkmate, didn’t have a back deck so you had to save enough energy after skiing to throw yourself over the side of the boat to get back in. Whether it would run was hit or miss, but at four years old, I learned to water ski behind it nonetheless. There are photos of my dad using a rope and pulling me on two skis in the backyard and then in the shallow part of a lake so I could get used to the feel of the skis and being on top of the water.
In the summer, being on top of the water was always where I wanted to be. My family would sometimes go to a lake nearby or travel for a long weekend to bigger lakes like Laurel Lake and Lake Cumberland in Kentucky. Every year we would go to a family camp in Michigan that was on a lake. Some of us die-hards would get up early and brave the chilly morning air and even colder water to find a smooth section of the lake so we could ski. And then there were the sunset cruises out to Lake Michigan on any night there was a chance the sun, clouds and sky would produce something amazing.
But my fondest memories are on the muddy Maumee River, about 20 minutes from where I grew up. I have no idea how many hours my family has tallied on that river; from skiing video footage alone, I know it’s a lot. Growing up, it went without mentioning that we would spend at least part of every weekend there, sometimes going mid-week as well. We still went to church on Sunday and I feel like time on the river afterwards was an extension of that.
There was, and still is, just something about being on a boat that instantly relaxes me. Maybe it’s because I was “driving” one since I was a baby. But with the smell of sunscreen, the warm sun on my face, the breeze in my hair and nature all around me, I felt like I could breathe easier. My heart rate slowed. I would often fall asleep in the back of the boat, the hum of the motor and boat rocking back and forth easing me to sleep – that is until someone threw a wet life jacket at me, indicating it was my turn to ski.
And then there’s water skiing. The engine roaring to life as the boat accelerated to pull me out of the water, spray in my face, and then I’d be up, on top of the water, wiping the water from my face and starting to cut back and forth. The best was when there was a smooth section of water and I could really get into a rhythm, slicing through the water and it was almost magical. Each cut a little harder than the last, I focused, looking for my dad after a particularly strong cut to see him giving me a thumbs up or pumping his fist in encouragement. Dropping or wiping out when I didn’t have anything more to give. Breathing hard as I removed my ski and gloves and hoisted myself back into the boat.
It was sometimes just my immediate family, but often friends and extended family would join. My mom and dad taught many of them to ski – my mom in the water helping keep the skier and skis steady and my dad expertly driving and giving advice, the boat horn sounding whenever there was success. There was laughter and conversation and true fellowship as the boat skimmed across the water. And of course, the mandatory stop at the family-owned ice cream shop on the way home.
Time on the boat with family and friends was often where I felt most at ease and often most close to God. It wasn’t “church” in the traditional sense, but there was something about being with loved ones, in God’s creation, away from phones and technology that was, dare I say, holy? I’d love for anyone reading this to share where, outside of the church building, you connect with God. Where is your “nontraditional” sanctuary? Where are you flooded with joy and cherished memories? I like to think that God appreciates our creativity in how we commune with Him.
Now that I live far away, I don’t get to boat and ski as much and since my dad’s passing over two years ago, time on the boat has been bittersweet. Being on the water was his happy place. His absence is glaringly obvious and felt. The family boat picture is the last one we took with him in it. We all miss him so much, but are grateful for the countless memories and time together we have shared and for the opportunity to continue his legacy of loving all things boat and skiing. It’s been fun to see my nieces and nephew enjoy the boat as we continue to make memories with the next generation on the water.
Revelation 22 talks about the river of life in Heaven. “Then the angel showed me the river of the water of life, bright as crystal, flowing from the throne of God and of the Lamb.” I picture my dad on the banks of that river, eyes closed, basking in the love of our Savior. And if you need me once I get to Heaven, that’s where I’ll be too.
ABOUT THE BLOGGER:
Danielle (Dani) Rupp grew up in a small town in Ohio and is a true Buckeye fan, though she tries not to be obnoxious about it. In 2011 she came to PA to earn her Master of Social Work degree and has since made Kennett Square her home. In her free time, Dani enjoys going on mission trips/traveling, reading, and connecting with loved ones—preferably over coffee and a sweet treat.