The Not-Forgotten Boat

I remember hiking through our family's woods with my dad. When I was younger, I remember thinking that the trees just seemed so tall. We would hunt for mushrooms or work on building our fort, Camp Threestones. The camp, of course, was named after the three large rocks that comprised the footprint of the camp.

Right in the center of the woods, there is a little pond. One day, Dad said that we could make a boat and take it back to the woods. I remember the boat. It was made up of two 55 gallons drums welded together and placed on their sides. We had a platform with a railing on top of the drums. One day, Dad said that we could take the boat back to the pond in the woods. I was so excited to have my very own boat. We put the boat in the bucket of our loader tractor and proceeded to take back the lane to the woods. At the woods, we entered onto the largest trail and started back towards the pond. We had to move some fallen limbs from the trail. Finally, we reached the pond.

Dad lowered the bucket and placed the boat in the pond. At this point, it was difficult to contain my excitement. I jumped up on the boat and started to row with an improvised oar. I immediately realized something was wrong.

The boat did not move.

It stayed right where it was.

You see, the pond was not deep enough to accommodate the boat.

Today, my buddy, Rusty, and I went to look for mushrooms in the woods. We approached the pond and saw the boat.

It has never moved.

The platform and the railing that once seemed so cool have rotted away.

The drums are discolored with rust.

My boat.

By the way, Camp Threestones has also rotted away. I wasn't even sure of the location anymore.

Okay, I'm crying right now as write this. I'm not exactly sure why, but the tears are dripping done my face and my nose is stuffy.

I wonder if this is how the writer of Ecclesiastes felt when he wrote:

"Then I took a good look at everything I'd done, looked at all the sweat and hard work. But when I looked, I saw nothing but smoke. Smoke and spitting into the wind. There was nothing to any of it.

Nothing." (2:11, The Message)