I feel the pull of the woods in my bones—a call to return, to refresh, to reconnect with the simplicity and peace that St. Francis so cherished in nature. Growing up in Northern Michigan, straddling the Upper and Lower Peninsulas, the forests, rivers, and lakes shaped me. They were my sanctuary then, and they remain so now. Life has a way of pulling me away, but the woods always beckon me back, offering the renewal my soul craves.
The Au Sable River: A Baptism of Joy
There’s something sacred about the Au Sable River, its cool waters winding through the trees. As a child, I’d splash in its shallows, the sound of my laughter mingling with the current. Fishing there was a lesson in patience—waiting for a trout to nibble, pole in hand, the sun filtering through the pines. Today, fishermen from all over the world call it the “Holy Waters,” drawn to its legendary trout and tranquil beauty. Even now, the memory of those moments washes over me like a baptism, cleansing the clutter from my mind and reminding me of life’s simple joys.
Lake Huron: Running Free
The beaches of Lake Huron were my endless playground. I’d run along the shore, the sand soft beneath my feet, the wind pushing me forward as the waves roared their approval. That freedom, that expanse of water stretching to the horizon, felt like God’s own invitation to let go and live. Today, when the world feels heavy, I long to return to that shore, to run again and feel the weight lift with every step.
Lake Superior: Treasures in the Stones
Sitting on the rocky shores of Lake Superior, I’d hunt for agates—those gleaming gems polished by time and tide. Each one was a small miracle, a gift from the Creator hidden among the ordinary stones. That quiet search, with the waves lapping and the gulls crying overhead, taught me to look for beauty in the overlooked. I need that stillness again, that slow, deliberate peace that only Superior’s shores can offer.
Bridges of Memory
The Mackinac Bridge looms large in my past, a towering link between my two homes—the Upper and Lower Peninsulas. Every trip across was an event, the water sparkling below, the hum of the car on the grates a song of adventure. I also remember watching the International Bridge to Canada take shape, a marvel rising from the earth, connecting my world to something bigger. Those bridges still call me back, promising passage to the places that hold my heart.
Mackinac Island: A Timeless Escape
Even now, I return to Mackinac Island with my wife, Kathleen, finding refuge in its timeless charm. Together, we sit at our favorite watering hole, a bourbon in hand, watching the world drift by in peaceful rhythm. The island is our escape, a haven where we can breathe deeply and feel the presence of God in the stillness. It’s a place where time unwinds, where the clatter of modern life gives way to the clip-clop of hooves and the scent of fudge on the breeze. Returning there with her has deepened its magic, blending nostalgia with new memories as we share in its serenity.
The Wild Ones: Eagles, Wolves, and Whispers of Sasquatch
The woods of Northern Michigan teem with life—eagles slicing through the sky, their wings a testament to grace and power; wolves moving silent through the trees, guardians of the wild; mountain lions, rare and elusive, a whisper of the untamed. And then there are the tales of Sasquatch, that mysterious figure lurking in the shadows. I smile at the thought—whether real or legend, it adds a spark of wonder to my woodland home. These creatures, known and unknown, remind me of the vastness of creation, a divine tapestry I’m privileged to witness.
Home, My Peace
Northern Michigan is more than a place—it’s my peace, my roots, my refuge. The woods, the waters, the wildlife—they call me back when my spirit grows weary. I hear God’s voice most clearly here, in the rustle of leaves, the ripple of a river, the cry of an eagle. St. Francis praised the Creator through all He made, and in these woods, I do the same. I need to return, to walk those familiar paths, to sit by those shores, to find my peace again. It’s my home, and it always will be.
Peace, Mike
