Leave a Footprint

Dear Boo and Bubble,

Whenever our family would get together, your great, great, great Aunt Harriet used to remark that we were “making memories.”  Captain and I enjoyed this past week being with you – doing just that – making memories.  I love the phrase because, for me, it succinctly describes what a good deal of life is all about.

As I watched the two of you play one afternoon totally immersed in your imaginary world of Hot Wheel car races and Lego fortresses, a weighty muse floated across my mind.  You are both at the beginning of your adventure on this earth – looking forever forward, learning, growing, exploring, testing - building a compilation of experiences that will mold you into men.  I, on the other hand, have already lived more days than remain and even though I fully intend to be here for a considerable time more, my mind contemplates my inevitable mortality and tends to reflect backward.  The process naturally leads me to mankind’s eternal conundrum of figuring out the purpose of it all.  Is there something more to it than just “making memories?”  And when the dust of my existence on this earth finally settles, will I have left behind any footprint at all on the larger history and scheme of things?

Very few of us have significant enough lives to merit a Wikipedia entry or to be remembered by anyone beyond our family and friends.  But, I still think it’s important to make an effort towards a legacy beyond existing each day.  In many ways, The Bridge Project is my conscientious attempt to do so.  By sharing these stories, my hope is to impress upon you the concrete values and morals intrinsic in your family’s heritage.  I also strive to create an awareness that as self-centered as life may be, there is an objective to it beyond self that makes it worth living.  (I’m also trying to make my footprint more permanent – as your forebears Joseph Cottrell and Schaefer Kendrick did before – through the written word!)

Through the coming years, you will make many choices that will determine the ultimate outcome of your life.  There will be times when everything is crystal clear and the path well-defined.  There will also be moments of self-doubt and confusion about where you are headed.  When you are in the midst of such emotions, take heart from C. S. Lewis who wrote “Having a rough morning?  Place our hand over your heart…..feel that?  That’s called purpose.  You’re alive for a reason; don’t give up.”

I would always encourage you through your words and deeds to affect everyone and everything around you positively.  If you see a need, meet it.  If you find a wound, bind it.  If you know of a hurt, attend it.  And…..at every opportunity….promote and pass along the legacy left to you by those who came before.  Leave a footprint, boys…..leave a footprint.

The Power of Silence

Dear Boo and Bubble,

I read a quote the other day that really resonated – “Sometimes not saying anything is the best answer.  You see, silence can never be misquoted.”  It started me thinking about how, in today’s atmosphere of over-the-top rhetoric and the need to escalate conversation until everyone talks over each other, it is imperative that we not lose the ability to be silent – even if only as a counterweight to hyperbole.  We often forget just how powerful silence can be. The quote reminded me of an incident I witnessed years ago that perfectly illustrates my point.

Captain and I were with some friends, Bill and Alice Otis, for the 4th of July on their boat on the Waccamaw River near Pawleys Island, SC. We anchored at what would be accurately described as an old "swimming hole" in a bend in the river. Several other boats were anchored nearby and the beach exposed on the outer curve at low tide was packed with families picnicking on the shore. Children frolicked in the water, swimming and splashing around.  It was a perfect holiday afternoon.

All of a sudden a boat came around the bend at full speed. Even in sight of all of the people in the water, it did not slow down. Parents frantically called for their children to get out of the water. Those of us in boats began yelling at the driver to slow down. The boat kept coming. As it approached closer, we could see a panic-stricken woman, her arms straight and hands tightly gripping the wheel, trying to steer ….. the throttle just to her right pushed as far forward as it could go.  Apparently, the driver had fallen out somewhere down the river.  As everybody screamed at her to throttle down, it became obvious that she had no idea how to slow or stop the boat.  

It was a scene of total, perilous chaos.

In its midst, Bill stood on the bow of his boat -  perfectly still, no yelling or waving of the arms. His nonconforming presence miraculously caught the eye of the woman in the runaway boat. Without saying a word, he made the exaggerated motion of gearing the throttle down. Through all of the commotion, she saw this aberration of silence and reached over to the throttle and pulled it back. The boat slowed, its rear rising up gently, and it came to a stop.

By the grace of God and through the power of this silent act, no one was hurt.

The image of what happened that day remains vivid in my mind as does its lesson – sometimes one act of silent calm can have more positive impact that all the shouting in the world!