A labour of love occupying hours over many weeks, engaged a father and son in a project where dad passed on his creative woodworking skills to his eagerly involved 11 year old.
Following the classic style of 1930’s ‘J Class’ yachts, they were crafting a beautiful model sailing boat. It was quite large – at least to a young boy holding the hull in both arms, enjoying the timber aromas as it took shape.
Finally, the yacht hull was ready to paint. An elegant keel with stabilising weight was in place, a handcrafted metal rudder with its tiller had been fitted in the cockpit. The mast, the boom and rigging were all ready for a final fit-out.
The boy’s mum machine sewed sails from paper patterns that her husband had cut out as templates. The white calico was beautifully hemmed with the ropes and rigging hand-stitched for everything to attach neatly.
The day came when the father took his son down to the sea. At a sheltered little bay, they waded out into knee-deep water to give their beautiful creation its inaugural sailing.
The yacht skimmed along superbly back and forth between a beaming father and his enraptured son. Everything was perfect until an unforeseen occurrence turned their joy to devastation.
A gentle on-shore breeze picked up as the yacht was sailing across to the boy… then it swung suddenly around to a strong off-shore quarter, causing the yacht to veer away and head out to sea. Giving no thought to safety and disregarding his father’s cries, the boy plunged out deeper and deeper abandoning caution to intercept the yacht.
But it was a lost cause as the wind propelled the model yacht out of reach… further and further into open water.
It grew smaller until it was a dot on the horizon.
The little boy’s tears flowed freely as he and his dejected father drove home. The father regaled himself for not tethering the yacht.
Weeks passed by. As the boy and his mother walked past a fish-shop in town, a startling sight confronted them in the window. Among fresh fish was the boy’s yacht, bedraggled and worse for wear at sea, with a ‘For Sale’ sign on it.
“My yacht!” he cried exuberantly. He raced inside to claim his possession and mum followed. “That’s my yacht there – may I please have it?”
“Your yacht?” the proprietor asked quizzically. “But it’s my yacht sorry. I own it since I purchased it from a fisherman.”
The boy’s protests fell on sympathetic, but deaf ears.
The mother negotiated a price to pay, and the yacht was put aside until the boy earned the money to redeem it.
The day came when he had enough and he carried the yacht aloft, declaring, “Now it’s twice mine!”
It’s a nice picture of what God has done for us. Belonging to Him as His creation, we went astray and got lost. Wonderfully, Christ paid the price to redeem us. Now, we can be “twice his…”
Sailing boat at sea. Photo: brenoanp pexels.com
