Harbors & Boat Launches.

Tonight’s moon is a smooth, bleach-white stone from Pebble Beach at Little Sister Bay. Beckoning all the way down here to Illinois, “Come back! Come back!” It’s a strange and wonderful tidal pull. Some kind of anchor I dropped in Door County back when I was a little kid. I didn’t even know it then. But, it has become a harbor for me.

And, harbors, I’m reminded, "moonlight" as boat launches.

I think that most of my major decisions have been made in Door County. The decision to move to Illinois after college and begin work with junior high and high school students had its roots in the rocky soil of Washington Island and the summer youth ministry program of historic Bethel Church. Youth ministry looking, on occasion, like some combination of Jesus and BB gun fights (“Owww! Hey! One pump only!”). Dangerous stuff. And, my wife and I celebrated our honeymoon high on the bluffs of Egg Harbor. Right there on the frightening, exhilarating, beautiful edge. Envisioning our new life together.

More recent decisions have been made in Door County, too. Specifically, most of my recent major decisions have been made in Ephraim. About five years ago, for instance, right there overlooking Eagle Harbor, my wife and I made the choice to resign from a position that I had loved for almost ten years. The decision was excruciating and liberating. Excruciating because these were people we loved. Liberating because we asked the questions about our future and the future of our community: “What if…? What could happen?”. And, that time in Ephraim set us on a course to pioneer a community development organization focused on at-risk students. I’m not sure it would have happened without the concurrent “lake effect” of harbor and boat launch.

Why is this place such prime real estate for the dual roles of harbor and boat launch? Not too many locations can boast of that kind of holy ground. Certainly, it’s the grace of vacation and getting away. It doesn’t hurt that generous friends have let our family use their beautiful Ephraim home from time-to-time, either. Free vacations make me want to be a better man. And I don’t mean those “free” vacations where we’ve had to listen to “time share” presentations from someone named Dustin, who, for ninety-plus minutes questioned our values (“Is it just the bottom line with you? This is an investment in your children. You can’t put a price on memories, can you?”) and befuddled us with comments like, “Does that take the mustard off your hot dog?” Uh…What..? Vacation time share presentations do not make me want to be a better man.
But, vacationing in Ephraim has provided the impetus for pushing off the sandbar of routine. For breaking free from the undertow of “It can’t be done” and “That’s not how we do things around here” and “Let’s be reasonable”. Is this true for people who live in Door County or do they have to go somewhere else to experience this? Maybe Illinois, but I doubt it. And, yes, lake breezes and shimmering aspens and lapping waves all help beckon me into harbor and then, later, launch me on towards bigger dreams. But, there is something else, too, about Ephraim. Maybe it’s in the name.

Ephraim sounds like the Hebrew word for “fruitful”. That’s how the Old Testament character came by his name. His father--the great-great-grand-daddy of all dreamers--Joseph, named this second bundle of joy Ephraim, or “twice fruitful”. And, big dreams are what lead A.M. Iverson to take a step of faith across frozen Green Bay, in 1853, and envision the fruitful community of Ephraim. So, how can one not be harbored, and then launched, in this atmosphere and rich history of fruitfulness and big dreams? Being in Ephraim makes me think like a dreamer and a pioneer. And, well, like a fisherman. Like the ones dotted all over Green Bay. Can you find bigger dreamers than fishermen? My dream, my fantasy, is to someday catch a fish big enough to eat. It hasn’t happened yet. Clinically, there’s probably a fine line between dreamers and the insane, but I know it’s out there. So, I come to Ephraim-to this heady atmosphere-because I want to be in a place where I can think like a pioneer, and a dreamer and a fisherman. All of them--us--chasing something we can’t see. The deep thing that we know is out there. Now chasing us.

Tomorrow morning I’ll wake here in Illinois, step out on our porch on a cool, clear, breezy spring morning and my kids will roll their eyes: “I know what Dad’s going to say, ‘It’s a Door County day!’” And it is. Minus the water and trees. Minus the smooth, bleach white stones. But still, there’s some hint on the wind of the grace of Door County. And, of Ephraim. Of harbors and boat launches. The grace of this old man dreaming dreams. Now becoming a young man seeing visions.