A Quiet Place That Beckoned

It was my husband’s idea.
Let’s have a family vacation the week of your birthday, he suggested.
He sent a text to the family.
Everyone was excited and on board.

He rented the house.
We would go back to a place we had been over half a dozen times before.
Yet it had been five years since we had vacationed there.
Our children looked so young in the pictures from that vacation.

The drive would be long.
There are beach destinations that are far closer.
However, this place fits our family.
This place allows us to really get away.

Duck, North Carolina is a favorite of ours.
There is something about the Outer Banks.
There is something about driving across the bridge away from the mainland.
There is something about driving north on Route 12.

I love seeing the sound on my left and the ocean on my right.
There is hardly any land in between.
It is there on that little bit of land, we make our home for the week.
We can walk everywhere.

All eleven of us planned to be there.
Some planned to come for the entire week and others planned to come for a very long weekend.
There were plenty of bedrooms to accommodate everyone.
The house was even pet friendly so our son and his wife could bring their dog.

It was so wonderful to all be together.
It was pure joy to be with my granddaughter every day.
The weather was delightful.
The fellowship was precious.

I still got up early each day and went for my morning walk.
Other years, I used to walk up and down Route 12, but this year I wanted to change it up a bit.
I decided to walk along the boardwalk.
I had walked the boardwalk before on other vacations.

When people think of boardwalks, many think of arcades and kiddie rides.
This boardwalk is quaint and scenic.
It is simply a way to walk along the sound.
There are quaint shops and places to sit and rest for a while.

I walked around 6:15 each morning.
It was often just me and a couple of seagulls.
I walked my usual three miles.
An hour and a half later, I returned home.

The walk itself did not take me that long.
It was my many stops that made my walk longer.
It was my places of pondering that kept me away for so long.
I needed the solitude more than I knew.

As I walked the boardwalk, I realized that it had changed since our last vacation in Duck.
The boardwalk had changed for the better.
The boardwalk was much longer and covered more area.
I actually walked my three miles on the boardwalk alone.

Benches placed along the boardwalk had gold plates on which people’s names were engraved.
Some had snippets of poems.
Some had literary quotes.
Every bench was there to remember someone that was loved and missed.

I imagined that the placement of the benches was chosen in some cases.
One bench in particular mentioned the person loving to watch the sunset at that spot.
I had time with God on those walks.
I had time to admire His handiwork all around me.

I looked at each signpost along the boardwalk.
Some posts said: Kayak launch or crabbing area.
Another post had the name of a market.
Each signpost gave me a sense of where I was along Route 12.

The first day I walked the boardwalk, I saw the signpost; it said: Church.
I walked a few more steps and saw a wooden cross tucked in the marsh.
A bit further, I saw a tall birdhouse that looked like a church with a steeple.
Just beyond that, I saw a circular building.

There was a gravel lot in front of the building.
I stepped off the boardwalk and approached the building.
As I got closer to the door, I saw the sign: Chapel open.
There it was, a chapel on the sound.

It called to me.

I walked up the steps and went inside.
The cool air conditioning broke the summer heat.
The circular room had windows all around.
There were chairs set up neatly in rows.

The rows faced a lovely stained glass window.
A communion table with a large open bible was under the stained glass window.
I chose a chair and sat down.
I read the quote on the stained glass.

I expect to pass through this world but once. Any good thing therefore that I can do, or any kindness that I can show to any fellow creature, let me do it now. Let me not defer or neglect it, for I shall not pass this way again.

I lost all sense of time.
I prayed.
I worshiped.
I looked out the windows that surrounded me.

I knew that this little chapel was behind the Methodist Church that I saw on Route 12.
However, I had never seen this chapel before.
In all the years I had been to the town of Duck, I never saw this chapel.
I was so grateful for this place as I sat all alone, though not alone.

When I got up to leave, I knocked the chair in front of me.
I looked down and saw that the chairs were connected.
A little clasp held one chair close to the one beside it.
In order for the row to be neat again, I had to fasten the chair in place.

I thought of the Body of Christ.
I thought of how we are all connected to each other through Him.
I thought about how one little jarring, one misstep can break our fellowship.
I thought about being intentional to reconnect so the fellowship is not broken.

And they know we are Christians by our love, I sang to myself.
Connected love.
Bound together in Him.
Separate at times, perhaps, but able to be mended.

I fastened the clasp and the chairs were back together.
I walked up to the large open Bible.
I wanted to find my favorite verse.
I wanted the page to be left opened to that passage, at least for a time.

The joy of the Lord is your strength. (Nehemiah 8:10)
I left the Bible open to that page.
I praised Him for this place, my En Gedi on the sound.
I signed the guest book only once though I visited the chapel every morning.

I am home now.
The vacation is a lovely memory.
We all want to go back next year, if God allows.
I miss the chapel.

I miss the place of quiet.
I miss the place of contemplation.
I miss the vista as I looked out the windows on every side.
I miss the quiet place that beckoned: Chapel open.

I came home and called the Duck United Methodist Church to thank them for the chapel.
Is the chapel new? I asked the woman who answered the phone.
No, it has been here for many years; it was tucked in the woods, she told me.
We just added the gravel lot about five years ago, she mentioned.

It was tucked in the woods and not able to be found.
Now it was a beacon, beckoning.
Now it was available for any who are weary and in need of rest.
It is always open and I am so grateful.

2 responses to “A Quiet Place That Beckoned”

1. How peacefully delightful. Thanks Gina!

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   • It was so peaceful, Jean!
     I looked forward to stopping there each morning.
     I actually miss that little chapel.
     Gina

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