Epic Story Weekend Finale

January 1, 2012

The Epic Story Weekend Project has been a success. I know that I have gained wisdom from the time spent chasing the Story rather than just going through the motions. I know that I have benefited from getting off the couch and adding purpose to my weekends. And I know that I am not the same person today that I was when I started.

Telling the story has been fun while at the same time it has been a lesson in listening carefully while engaging in the act of chasing fun. One can’t really tell an Epic Story if one is not paying attention. The epicness will just pass you by and you’ll be left with just the sweat and a bunch of words.

After the Singing Hills Men’s Retreat, I began to get behind in the actual writing part but I think this is a lesson as well. Not everything we do has to be written down as long as we enter the process with the intention of listening carefully to the tale as it unwinds.

Here are a few shots from some other Epic Story Weekends. If you want the full story, you’ll have to catch me and we’ll share a beer and I’ll fill you in on the details.

MRO Ambassadors and Support Crew

Mission to the Track Part 2

BFA Cross Country Festival

Trip to Manhattan with the BFA Cross Country Team

 Father - Daughter Golf Outing

NASCAR Trip to Phoenix, AZ with some special time spent with the Arizona Old Boys Rugby crowd. This story might cost a couple of beers.

And finally, the return to the summit of Mt. Mansfield. The first trip encouraged me to make a second. I suppose that is a side benefit of the Epic Story Weekends that I never thought of. Something might be so epic that you just have to do it again. That was certainly the case with this episode.

I have found several quotes that I think help support the notion of the Epic Story Weekend Project.

• “A knowledge of the path cannot be substituted for putting one foot in front of the other.” M.C. Richards
• “Choice is a divine teacher for when we choose we learn that nothing is ever put in our path without reason.” Iyanla Vanzant
• And, ”It is good to have an end to journey towards, but it is the journey that matters in the end.” Ursulak LeGuin

So there you have it, several months worth of Epic Story Weekends. I thank you for coming along for the journey and I hope that in some small way you were inspired as well.

In closing, remember these words by Donald Miller’s: “I wonder if that is what we’ll do when we are through…we’ll sit and tell <God> our stories and he’ll smile and tell us what they mean. I just hope I have something to say.”

I’m pretty sure I’ll have something to say…

Dave Southwick

Men’s Retreat – Singing Hills, NH

AMEN!

70+ men gathered for a weekend retreat – EPIC all by itself!

The one thing I have come to love and admire about a men’s retreat is that these guys just love to snore and they are darn good at it. Forget all the other things men are purported to do when they gather – snoring is king. I love it when a snorer is bothered by someone else’s snoring. You might be top dog in your own home but on the road, you may just have to sit on the porch (or sleep on the couch).

But that is not what we gather for nor is it the real Epicness of this weekend. The real Epic Weekend Story begins with knowing that when men gather, God will meet us there. He loves it when men get together – iron sharpens iron and all that goodness of men having the chance to share and relate in an unencumbered setting. God had to have been happy this weekend because these men came eager and open for the message.

I want to share an Epic moment that will show you just how real God is and what He can do in your life if you just listen for His voice. And hopefully you’ll see that He also has a pretty good sense of humor.

The theme of the week was Understanding the Times. 1 Chronicles 12:32, “…from Issachar, men who understood the times and knew what Israel should do…” We were seeking to understand our times and get some direction as to what we are to do. Our speakers addressed the understanding the different seasons in our personal, professional, and spiritual lives and seeking guidance on what to do.

Friday night, Pastor Roland Ludlam gave the message and he wanted us to understand that God wants to speak into our lives and change us “one thought at a time.” He prefaced his time by offering that God had plans to meet us here in this place tonight, it might be through a gift of the Holy Spirit or the gift of a new name, or a sense of purity where we never thought possible.

He went on to challenge us to “not conform to the patterns of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of our mind. What is normal, ought not to be. God showing us old things in a new way.” He used the story if Gideon and his rise from a wimp threshing wheat in a wine-press to a leader of great battles. The story goes that when the Angel of the Lord addressed Gideon, he called him by his new name, “Mighty Warrior.” From that moment on, Gideon was a new man whether he liked it or not, and he didn’t. Gideon challenged God every step of the way but God refused to let Gideon backslide from that moment on. He had already cast him in his new name and role. No matter how many “yeh, buts” Gideon threw up, God showed great patience with Gideon and hit each one out of the park.

As Pastor Roland finished his message, he asked each of us to pray that God would reveal Himself to us in a real and personal way. I took his offer and turned at my seat, dropped to my knees and bowed my head in prayer. I began to ask God for a new name and at the same time threw out my own doubts and “yeh, buts” as to my worthiness for such a gift. Just that quickly he rebuked me and asked me if I had not learned anything from Gideon? I continued to seek Him and again, He answered me quickly by saying I will give you the name Conqueror. “You will be able to conquer those areas of health, work, and personal sin.” EPIC!

Now I know myself well enough to know that if I did not write that down immediately, I would forget it for, like Pooh, I am also a bear of very little brain. And I knew that when I got home my wife would ask me, “Well, how was the retreat?” To which I would reply, “Fine.” And she would give me that look and go on, “So, what happened?” And I would get all excited and say, “God gave me a new name.” She’ll query further, “What was it?” And I would slump and confess, “I can’t remember. But it was Awesome and Way Cool!”

I did not want to have that conversation so I began to write my new name in my journal so that I could recall it later. Conco… nope Concu… nope, maybe k, Conko.. nope q, yep it has a q in it, Conqo… silly if it has a q, it has to have a u… About this time, I put my head back on the chair and asked “Lord, thank you for this special gift but would it be too rude to ask for a name I can spell?” Tell me He doesn’t have a sense of humor. Finally after several failed attempts, I got CONQUEROR! FYI, I put a check box next to it to remind me to look it up when I got home – no spell checker on my journal.

To show you just how real God is, I could never have made that up if I tried. First of all, if it were me just talking to myself, I would have given myself a name I could spell. Second, it would have been something more like “fixer of things and stuff guy” not something as eloquent as Conqueror.

I am simply amazed that God cared enough about me to meet me in this place, change my understanding of the times, and give me a new mindset so that I would have a better chance to know what to do. When I got back to St. Albans, He punctuated the Epic Story Weekend with the Epic Clemson/Syracuse/Broncos sunset you see above.

See you next weekend.

Dave Southwick

Kayak around Burton Island from the Hathaway Boat Launch

Me and My Noble Steed!

September 12, 2011

I originally put this event on the Inspiration List because I thought a water based activity or two would balance out all the land based activities. Then last week I got thinking that if I did the Bay Day Race as an Ironman, I would get the kayaking out of the way.God had a different plan. First of all, this became a Monday event after the weekend became filled with too many other family activities and lawn mowing to fit it in. No problem, I have Monday free this year. BTW, I actually thought about making lawn mowing my Epic event of the weekend but I realized that I don’t think about anything while I am mowing the lawn. The Epic Story Weekend would have sounded like this: mowed straight for a while, turned right, went straight, turned right, ohhhhh went around a tree, now for the grand finale, I parked the mower in the garage and turned it off.

I asked Andy and Heidi if I could borrow one of the kayaks for my Epic Story Weekend and they said sure but did I really want to go out – it looked like it was going to be a bit windy, maybe I should call and get a lake report before I drove all the way to their house. I thanked them for their concern and then mentioned that it wouldn’t be very Epic if the lake was calm and the wind wasn’t blowing. That might have sounded like this: paddled straight for a while, turned right, went straight, turned right, ohhhhh went around an island, now for the grand finale, I parked the kayak at the dock and got out. No, I’m thinking wind and waves and maybe even a Champ sighting are going to make this Epic.

I got my wish, except for the Champ sighting. It’s not that I don’t believe in Champ, because I do, he was just busy with an elementary school field trip down south today.

Anyway, my plan was to hug the shore line where I could in hopes of grabbing a bit of shelter from the southwest winds at 10 to 20 knots. For those of you who are not nautically fluent that means the wind was blowing out of the southwest (right up St. Albans Bay) at a speed of 3 to 6 million miles per hour, give or take. To make things even more interesting, NOAA made the waves at 1 to 3 feet. Now, if you are sitting in a 22 foot Boston Whaler (notice it tied to the buoy behind me in the “what’s wrong with this picture” above – foolish me) 1 to 3 foot seas is fun, a bit stiff on the kidneys but fun. In a 7 foot kayak (notice it in my hand in the  ”what’s wrong with this picture” above) that sits a total of 3 inches off the water line, 1 to 3 foot seas is EPIC! Manageable but EPIC! Just to keep the moms at home calm, this was not an unnecessarily risky trip. I’d call it more of a stout trip – doable.

In spite of the weather reports, the first leg of my trip was in 6 to 12 inch chop with a stiff SW wind in my face. This proved to be a great warm up leg as I could work on getting my balance in the boat, even out my strokes, and get a feel for how the waves played off (or over) the bow of the kayak. I also got a sense of how much water I might take on over the course of the trip and how stable the boat was in various wave angles. All is well. Now, that I was settled in, I was interested in what the Epic Story might be for the day. There was a big part of me that was hoping it wasn’t going to involve swimming. I immediately began to see paths in the story. Most navigation on the lake is done by line of sight since there are very few, if any, places on Lake Champlain where you can’t see the shore line. So, I found myself picking a sight point on the shore and aiming the boat in that direction. At the same time, I noticed that there were lines of foam on the water that held a true line even with all the wave action trying to disturb the pattern. It was comforting to follow these lines.

Once I broke around the first point of land on this journey I was now facing open water with little or no relief of wind or waves for miles. I was in the 1 to 3 foot seas. An interesting observation – when you approach these land points (there would be three of them on this journey) you begin to see the forces of many origins pounding together creating turbulence and disorganization in the water. Waves no longer come in fairly predictable patterns rather they appear as more of a churning. Similar to life in many ways. Awww, lesson number one.

I crossed the open bay and made for the ferry launch at Killkare State Park. As I approached the ferry dock, two bass boats had just put in and were preparing to take off for their secret fishing spots. These boats are capable of 50 to 60 mph. In these waters they weren’t going much faster than I was. I took that as comforting in some demented way.

After clearing Killkare, I decided to head for the leeward side of Mosquito Island to give myself a bit of a break from the wind. For the next 15 to 20 minutes I had flat, calm water and was able to regroup and prepare myself for what I knew was going to be the toughest leg of the trip. When you are in the calm waters you enjoy the effortless movement of the kayak and the strength of each stroke of the paddle. You are able to let you mind relax a bit after the mental struggle of anticipating wind and wave against your boat. A safe harbor – awww lesson number two.

After making my way across the northern edge of Burton Island, I was now about to turn into the teeth of the weather. A full 10 to 20 knot winds and 1 to 3 foot waves right in my face, although I don’t recall any of the 10 knot versions of the winds. This is a steady test of perseverance and conservation of motion. I picked a point of land at the midpoint of the island and just paddled. Once I cleared that point, I picked another and off I went again. This was not a good place to stop and ponder the universe or I would have been blown back from whence I started. One additional land point later, I was at the southern tip of the island and ready to make for home. As I rounded this point I again was mesmerized by the confluence of forces and the unique chaos churning in the waters. Although, one rogue tip of the boat and I was quickly brought back to my senses and the task at hand – get around this point.

This next leg of the trip proved to be the most perplexing. While it was certainly the longest leg, I was now heading in a general northeasterly direction. One would think that a steady sw wind of 10 to 20 knots would be just what Captain Ahab ordered. Oh no you don’t. For some inexplicable reason, whenever I would let the boat go on its own, it would want to bow into the wind and stop. I struggled with this strange phenomenon for a good 15 minutes. I wanted to head toward shore and every time I let the boat have its way, it would steer me out to open water. Mind you, I am still dealing with the same Epic winds and seas that have been with me from the start. I began to notice that the boat was settling on a point higher on the shoreline than the one I had originally chosen. This course would take me further offshore but in the long run would cut significant distance and time off the trip (provided I didn’t capsize along the way). As I gave into the new course, I began to sense that the paddling got easier and the boat was tracking with less effort. Lesson number three – God has a plan for my life and if I fight Him along the way I might get there eventually, but, if I follow His path, the risks may seem higher but the end results will contain a higher reward.

After finally making my last land point, I was again in relatively still waters and my home port was in sight. This gave me a chance to reflect on the many places God had touched my journey. He was the calm water, as well as the chop and the 1-3 foot seas. He was the gentle breeze on the leeward side of the island and the stiff headwinds of the windward side. He was the island, the sea, and the wind. He was the turmoil and chaos and the constant battle for course correction. He was the gentle hand guiding the kayak on a new course. He was the kayak, the paddle, the life jacket. He was the balance on the waves and the light spray of water across the bow. He was my strength and perseverance. He was my All in All.

See you next weekend.

Dave Southwick

The Great Race – Bay Day

It's All About Picking the Right Category

September 4, 2011

A Fourth of July tradition like no other, The Great Race is something you just don’t want to miss. For the first 5 or 6 years we lived in St. Albans, we were oblivious to the Bay Day festivities but then, that all changed. Once you do a Bay Day Great Race I can’t imagine a year could go by without wanting to be a part of this spectacular event.

So, why you might ask are we writing about the Great Race and Fourth of July here on Labor Day weekend? Good question. If you will remember back to July 4, 2011, the low-lying areas around Lake Champlain were under 3 feet of flood stage waters. Since the Bay Day events take place on and around St. Albans Bay that would have meant that the participants would have been dealing with 3-4 feet of water – the Bay Park was completely submerged. The organizers made a sound decision to move the event to the end of the summer to allow the bay and the participants to recover from all that water. That brings us to Labor Day weekend and the rescheduled running of the Great Race.

A bit of history. The Bay Day Great Race is now 32 years old. It is a triathlon in that there are three legs to the race. A typical Bay Day race consists of a 5K run, a 12 mile bike ride, and then a 3 mile canoe or kayak paddle in the Bay. Teams consist of 4 people, 3 people, 2 people, 1 person (Ironman/woman), all male, all female, 2 male/2 female, families, corporate, first timers, championship, kayak, canoe, under 18, under 39, over 39, over 55, and for those hydrophobes or people of superior intellect, you can do the duathalon which allows you to forget the water leg. In all there are around 31 categories from which to choose and each category gives awards for at least 1st, 2nd, and 3rd place finishers – do the math, at least 93 chances to come home with a prize.

Now this is as good a place as any to be reminded that Epic Story Weekends are not about winning prizes (at least not material ones) but purely about the time spent in the moment. That being said, I have contended for years that winning at Bay Day is not about how fast you run/bike/paddle but more a matter of how wisely you choose your category. If you pick Championship Kayak, you had better be fast. So while competing is not necessarily the reason for being a part of the Great Race, coming home with a new pint glass means you at least picked your category well.

This year we entered the Family Division and Clan Southwick was prepared to take on the triathlon world. I was going to run (yes, I am actually in some shape now), brother Peter was going to bike, and nieces Gabriella and Paige were going to kayak. As the race date got closer we discovered that daughter Addie was without a team. One solution was for Addie to sub in for me as the runner for Clan Southwick and I would hook up with a couple of other friends and enter a second team in the Over 40 Slow Guys Category. Unfortunately, my two old slow guy partners had “other commitments” that day. Well what could be more Epic then doing the Great Race as an Ironman – or more appropriately in my case – Tinman. I was actually feeling like this is how it should be so I locked in under Category I6 and was prepared for another Epic Story Weekend. I later discovered that Category I6 was Ironwoman 55+ – I switched to I3 in a hurry – we have some incredibly fit 55+ Ironwomen in our area – there would certainly be no pint glass for me! Anyway, I borrowed a bike from missing old guy number one, a kayak from missing old guy number two, dusted off my helmet and camelbak, laced my scoring chip into my running shoes, and said my prayers.

Before we get to the actual race details, I want to share a bit about the prayers. A week or two before the Great Race, we had received a call at the church looking for volunteers to help with the organization and operation of the race – some set up, crowd control, timing, and clean up - a neat opportunity to help out the community. We jumped in to help and soon had a substantial list of volunteers at the ready. Since this was going to be on a Sunday morning, we asked if the organizers would mind if we held a devotional service for the workers who were going to miss their regularly scheduled Sunday worship services. No problem.

So Sunday morning at 7:30 about 30 or so volunteers gathered for a nice devotional service with worship music and a Bible message. I felt that it was a perfect way to start the morning. Claude Chevalier and Linda Lahaie led the singing that morning and closed with the popular “I Am Free.” The regular chorus goes something like this: I am free to run (echo), I am free to dance (echo), I am free to live for you (echo), I am free. However, Claude thought that a bit of wordsmithing might help this tune be a motivator and encourager for the participants. His version went like this: I am free to run (echo), I am free to bike (echo), I am free to canoe for you (echo); I am free. Nice touch.

Back to the race, at a couple of minutes before 10:00 we gathered at the start line, self handicapped with the faster runners toward the front and the slower runners in the back with me. The final words of gratitude were offered to the organizers, last-minute instructions dealt to the participants, and then, to my surprise, I was asked to give an invocation. Another nice touch.

The National Anthem was sung, the gun fired, and we were off. As I mentioned earlier, I was in good shape for this race considering where I was at the beginning of the summer. I had successfully put in 4 – 5 nonstop runs of 3-4 miles each so I was up for this. All through the run I sang “I Am Free to Run” and finished with a smile and a respectable time as I headed into the run/bike transition area. For those of you new to tinman triathlons, when you finish the run, you hop on your bike and hit the road but, not before changing into your biking shoes, donning your helmet and gloves, and loading on your camelbak or other hydration strategy. For the normal person, this should only take a minute or two. For someone who can’t reach his own feet, well that is an entirely different and awkward story. Let’s leave the details to your imagination and suffice it to say that next year, I will have a bucket to sit on or a valet to change my shoes for me. Some people claim that triathlons are won and lost in the transitions – I can see where that is true.

Finally, equipped with a nice road bike, a tank full of special water (do not report me to the authorities), and “I Am Free to Bike” stuck in my head, I was on to the bike stage. I was pleasantly surprised that my legs, lungs, and heart took to this transition relatively agony free – must have been the song.

Three miles into the bike ride God intervened, the skies turned black, lightning struck everywhere, and a cloud burst sent all the completely drenched bikers back to cover – the Great Race was over. Today there would be no awards ceremony, post race massages, bananas/bagels/water, Takeo drummers or bagpippers, and fortunately for me, no bike/kayak transition – God had seen enough.

Some were disappointed that the race was called short, but most just smiled as they packed up their wet gear knowing that another Great Race and another Epic Story Weekend were in the books. I never got to sing “I Am Free to Canoe For You” but by good timing, I did get a new pint glass. Must have chosen my category well.

See you next weekend.

Dave Southwick

Blackberry Pickin’

Bowl Full of Freshly Picked Blackberries

August 27, 2011

I headed into this Saturday thinking I was going to catch up with some friends on the Long Trail and that would be the epicness for this weekend. Well, as you have to come to understand by now, the best laid plans of mice and men often go awry. Wait, does that mean that if mice just wing it they have a better chance of success? Thanks to Eddie Izzard – Rated R for Language.

Yes the best laid plans of these two friends went awry when one of them banged up his knee and had to be helped off the trail. I am not so sure this plan went completely awry because I heard there were creemees involved. How bad can a plan go awry if there are still creemees in it?

Anyway, I wander from my point. Since there was no Long Trail on the calendar for today and since I seemed to be well prepared for the pending arrival of Miss Irene – boat is out of the water and not under a tree, generator is gassed and at the ready, and deck furniture is safely tucked out of harms way – that meant that I was open for a “honey-do.”

Today’s request was “would you please, please, pretty please pick some blackberries before the rain and wind from the afore-mentioned pending storm knocks them all off?” I’ll skip the gory details – I said; “Yes, dear.”

For those of you who have not been to our house to pick blackberries, we are nestled in some of the finest blackberry pickin’ in all of God’s green earth and it is right out our back door. Which just happens to bring up another side discussion. I call it the back door, my wife calls it the front door. If you have been to our house, please reply whether you think the cow pasture side of the house is the front yard or the back yard. If you have never been to our house – what are you waiting for?

Anyway, along the fence line and into the Gallagher’s pasture is fine berry pickin’. And I don’t mind berry pickin’. In fact, I rather enjoy it. It is cathartic in many ways and I find it soothing to mindlessly pick away until I have filled my chosen container for the day. Some days it is a pretty small container but not today. I picked a rather large stainless bowl, crawled through the barbed-wire fence (which is a sight and challenge at my age and girth), and proceeded to pick. My best laid plan went awry at this point. I was hoping for a quiet, mindless hour and a half of berry pickin’. But instead, I got into a pretty epic theological investigation surrounding the symbolism of picking berries as it relates to concept of the Biblical harvest. Thus Blackberry Pickin’ became the Epic Story Weekend.

In the Gospels of Matthew, Luke, and John we read that Jesus proclaims; “The harvest is plentiful, but the workers are few.” (We know that these are Jesus’ words because they are in Red. And, I wonder where Mark was?)

Now, while I was in the pasture by myself, I was not alone. Our dog Baloo is a berry pickin’ hound. He loves to walk with you and nibble at the lower branches pulling off berry after berry. He also is my protection from the curious cows and early detection system should we come across a berry pickin’ bear. But, to keep with the analogy, the workers were few, but not discouraged.

Anyway, it didn’t take long for every berry that touched my fingers to become a living symbol for the “harvest” of souls that Jesus was referring to.

Conversations went like this:

“Some of these are not ripe or ready to harvest.” “How come there are some bushes where every berry is ready for harvest and some where none are ready?” “What does it mean when a berry is half black and half red?” “If you accidentally knock a ripe berry off the bush while reaching for another ripe berry, what message does that send to the berry you knocked on the ground?” “How come there were patches in the pasture where there were no berry bushes and other places where they were thick with bushes?” “Berries at the bottom of the bushes seemed to be bigger than the ones at the top. What significance could that have?” “I noticed that if I thought I had picked a bush clean but went around to the other side, I always saw more.” “Some clusters of berries are quite ripe and hiding under a leaf.” “The fly that bugged me all day long reminded me of the one who wants to disrupt our harvesting attempts.” “Do we have to come home with a full bowl to be called a success?” “If you just hold your bowl under some branches and give the bush a shake, ripe ones fall right in.” “You can tell when you first touch a berry whether it is ready or not. Is that true with people?” ”Some berries seemed past their prime and hadn’t been picked.” “What about the ones the dog ate?” And finally, since I was in a cow pasture; “When you are in the harvest business, occasionally you will step in cow poop!”

I guess my plans didn’t go so awry after all. I am amazed, humored, and humbled when God can use something as simple as picking berries to remind us that He wants each of us to have a personal relationship with Him. We are all part of His EPIC harvest. 

With Miss Irene looming on the horizon, tomorrow should make for some great jam makin’. I wonder what message He might have planned for that little episode?

See you next weekend.

David Southwick

Climb Mt. Mansfield

Gang of Ten atop Mt. Mansfield

August 18, 2011

When a conversation starts; “Hey, we’re thinking about climbing Mt. Mansfield to watch the sunrise, do you want to come along?” you just know you are in for an Epic Story Weekend, even if the climb is on a weekday morning. I had Climb Mt. Mansfield on my original Inspiration List so it would have been hard to turn this offer down.

But, before I get too far into this story, I should mention that this Epic Story Weekend is more about a friendship than about any adventurous mountain climbing. So if you were expecting Into Thin Air Part 2, you had better turn back now.

Several years ago, Kevin King took his oldest son Kanoa on a Passport 2 Purity weekend. As the program recommends, Kevin took Kanoa for a special weekend – a camping and hiking trip on Mt. Mansfield. Thus began the tradition of an end of summer annual trek up Mt. Mansfield to catch the sunrise. Over the years different people have joined the King’s on their adventure. This year it was my turn.

When I first started the Epic Story Weekend adventures, I tried to make it clear that it was not about setting records or being on a specific time schedule but that it was more about the journey and the story along the way. I almost forgot that important detail this week.

This was an adventure that combined endurance, perseverance, some technical climbing, and a desire. During the first hour of the trip I was pretty sure that the lack of physical endurance was going to control the trip. As we started the hike around 4:00 am it was evident to me that the other 9 members of our party were in far better shape than I was and that they would easily out distance this old man in short order. First, I want to thank Leilani King for hanging out at the first fork in the trail so that I at least was headed in the right direction even if it looked like I was standing still. Second, and most importantly, I want to thank Kevin King for sticking by my side. This is the real epicness of the journey.

Sunrise was scheduled for around 6:00 am that morning. We were out of bed and on the road by 3:00 am and hit the Sunrise Ridge/Laura Cowles trail head around 4:00 am. At the pace I was going, I should have left a day earlier if there was any chance I was going to make it in time to see the golden globe rise in the east on this morning.

The younger crowd took off at a brisk pace and soon their flickering headlamps were nowhere to be seen leaving Kevin and me in the dust (well it would have been dust had it not started to gently rain). Several times I tried to release Kevin from his self-imposed servitude, that of being my personal guide and medical care watch crew, so that he could catch up to the others. At one point I even accused him of taking money from my wife to stay with me in case I had “the big one.”

On top of it all, I found myself being pushed by an uncontrollable desire to make the trip in time to see the sunrise even though I knew I was in no shape to make that desire a reality. Here in lies the rub. As long as Kevin was standing watch over me, I felt compelled to push on to help him get there in time – sorta counter epicness – if you get what I mean. The harder I pushed the tougher the climb went. I staggered, I lost my balance, I couldn’t catch my breath. Even though I needed to slow down and go at my own pace - the sunrise was still beckoning. In my mind I realized that I was violating the rules of the Epic Story Weekend but I couldn’t figure out how to get rid of my guardian angel (or more to the point, my own ego).

At one point I told Kevin, “Go on ahead, I’ll catch up or you can collect me on the way down, I don’t want you to miss the sunrise.” To which he responded, “There will be another sunrise tomorrow.” At the time I didn’t realize that I would say the same thing a dozen more times and no matter how much I insisted, Kevin would not leave my side.

Then it became very clear, this trip was not about seeing the sunrise on Mt. Mansfield but it was about understanding the true meaning of unselfish friendship. I finally stopped urging Kevin to go on without me, I slowed down, sat down when I had to, and walked within myself but not before I took a moment to thank him for being such a “Great Friend.”

In John 15:13, Jesus offers these words: “Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.” I have quoted and written on this verse many times, in fact, it is my personal life verse. The verse is often interpreted to suggest that one would die (lay down one’s life) for their friends. While I believe that is part of the meaning, I also think that there is a broader lesson to be had. Just as someone might be asked to lay aside their TV watching to spend time with a child, or lay aside a personal fishing trip to visit someone in the hospital, Jesus asks us to lay aside the other things in our life for our friends – or more succinctly, “lay down one’s life…”.  That is what Kevin was doing for me.

Joe Erhmann shares in his biography, Season of Life, that we must learn two important skills as men. First, we must learn how to love and second, we must learn how to be loved. Today was my day to learn how to be loved. As soon as I realized that Kevin was not going to leave me behind and that he was willing to lay aside his original plan to help me along, I began to accept his love and the Epic Story Weekend could begin.

As you can see by the picture above, ten people made it to the top of Mt. Mansfield that morning. Eight saw the sunrise and two got there a little later – but who’s keeping score?

See you next weekend.

Dave Southwick

Godstock North

Lighted Cross and a Full Moon

August 13, 2011

It has been several years now since I had first heard of Matt Luneau and his Godstock dream. In fact, now that I think about it, Dan Marlow first introduced us back when Matt was looking to make connections with the youth in the church community in Franklin County. Since that day, I would have to say that Matt and his wife Ilze have combined to put forth more energy for spiritual revival in Franklin County than any two other people I know. That is not to down play the efforts of churches and pastors in this area but I am talking about two individuals who have poured out their hard-earned money and time in unceasing efforts to spread the Gospel in this part of Vermont. And to top it off, most of that work is conducted from their home in Syracuse, NY while holding down full-time jobs.

Godstock has grown from a backyard tent revival to a full-time ministry that includes all kinds of events and gatherings throughout the year. Godstock North has now become the pinnacle event that punctuates the year-long efforts. The 2011 Edition of Godstock North was nothing short of EPIC!

Sue and I have been blessed over the past few years to be entrusted with hosting the out-of-town guest speakers at our home. This privilege has given us a chance to build relationships with some very special people over the years. 2011 was no different as we had the chance to spend time with Royce Williams from Rocky Mount, NC.

So I would like to tell you a little bit about the epicness of Godstock North – 2011 through the eyes of the time I spent with Royce Williams from Rocky Mount, NC. If I didn’t already have a title for this week’s Epic Story Weekend, I might have been tempted to call it “The One That Got Away.”

I picked Royce up from the airport in Burlington on Friday at about 12:54 (at least that’s what time his flight was supposed to get in and I have no doubt it was pretty much on time). I had run several miles of the Crossing the Cross relay with Jose Martinez that morning and had not really had much of a chance to freshen up other than change my t-shirt. In addition, I doubt that my brain had completely regained all the oxygen it had depleted that morning. So needless to say, I was ripe in one sense and pretty dull in another. That aside, Royce and I seemed to hit it off OK.

We took an obligatory run through downtown Burlington to see the sights and catch a quick bite down by the waterfront before heading north to St. Albans. I had noticed that Royce had a few fishing pictures up on his website so I took a wild guess that he might enjoy a few hours out on the lake drowning worms prior to the evening festivities. I was right. I took him to a spot where I knew there was a big one waiting and we commenced to fish and swap stories. To put things into perspective, the size of the few perch we caught was nothing compared to the size of the stories we took home. First off, I had a huge fish chase my first little perch up to the side of the boat confirming my suspicion that there was a biggun’ down there.

I need to take a break here to share with you a phenomenon that I have seen on more than one occasion. Once you start swappin’ stories with someone from the south, us northerners are almost always sucked right into that sweet southern drawl. I don’t care if it is from the Carolina’s, Tennessee, Georgia, Louisiana, or Texas – you cannot hep yourself. It just happens. So as I am writing this recollection of the events of the week, I am mentally retelling them with my best Rocky Mount accent in place. Y’all just hang in there.

The same thing happened with the second little bugger I pulled in except this time I got a good look at what had to have been a 30 to 36″ Northern Pike that was after my catch. Now, Royce is on the other side of the boat and he has not seen either of these two sightings but is just nodding his head in that “OK whatever you say” kinda way that new acquaintances afford each other. In the mean time, Royce is working on his own fishin’ tale.

My dog, Baloo, is a true blue fishin’ hound. He loves to be on the boat and goes absolutely bonkers once you get a fish on-line. Over the past two years whenever we take Baloo on the boat, we give him a chance to kiss each fish before we toss it back in the lake. We always figure that makes the dog happy and it gives the fish something to tell his school mates when he gets back to class. Well Royce was givin’ Baloo a chance to kiss one of his fish when somewhere between Baloo’s over aggressive kissin’ and Royce’s slippery grip, the fish ended up in Baloo’s mouth with nothing but he tail sticking out waggin’ back and forth to make us both lol. After a couple of quick rebukes, Baloo spit that little perch out on the back bench and we quickly scooped it up and tossed back in the lake, no worse for wear, except for a bit of dog slobber. Now if you believe that fish tell tales when they have been hooked and released, imagine the tale that little one was sputterin’ when it got done shakin’! In fact, Pastor Seth Anderson was talking about Jonah and the being in the belly of a Big Fish story and all I could imagine was that little perch tellin’ his version of the being in the belly of a Big Dog story.

We pulled anchor and headed for one last spot before we called it a day. This was a new spot to me but early on it was easy to see we had a pretty good chance at some bigger fish. We each pulled in a few perch that were twice as big as what we had caught before and we were just about to head back home – Pastor Royce did have to speak that evening so we were on a bit of a schedule – when BAM – Royce hooked a rod-bending monster. He played it as best he could and I stood ready on the bow with the landing net. We never did get a good look at it but I’ll bet it was a pretty good-sized bass. He never broke water but he did make a smart run right under the anchor line and managed to snap the line – he was gone, hook, line, and sinker. The One That Got Away.

Even though we didn’t land the big one – we did come home with a few stories and some pretty big smiles.

Saturday morning Kit and I had an early appointment at the St. Albans City Pool for the Annual Run For Your Life event. This is a fund-raiser for a friend of ours who lost her stepson in a car accident and is now raising money for local high school scholarships. It is a great event for many reasons not the least of which is that they give out Boston Cream Pies to the winners.

Saturday afternoon was a spirit filled Godstock North. Along with Pastor Royce, we had Seth Anderson and Matt Luneau give messages and then a wonderful concert by Dove Award Nominee Jamie Slocum. These individuals helped fill my spirit stringer and I left that day feeling as if I had caught the big one for certain. It is amazing how the Word can fill you up and renew your spirit like nothing else the Lord has left us. I am thankful for each person who gave of themselves on this day. As we were leaving we hung around long enough to snap the photo above. What an EPIC moment in an Epic Story Weekend.

We spent most of the rest of the weekend solidifying a relationship with our new-found friend and telling fish stories…among other things (like eatin’ my wife’s delicious cooking).

What did I learn this weekend? You don’t have to fill your live wells with a ton of fish to have a great fishing experience.

See you next weekend.

Dave Southwick