Mhaolain's Child, a Renaissance Thinker in a Post-Modern Culture

(Ig)Noble Rot

Recently, my work took me to the beautiful Napa Valley for a few days. One of my favorite places to visit there is Ma(i)sonry, an art gallery and tasting room blended together like a perfect meritage in a historic building in Yountville. During my previous visit in November, I had the opportunity to taste a beautiful dessert wine from the R.A. Harrison winery. While I'm not usually a fan of sweet wines, this wine, appropriately named Nobility, captured my taste buds, and I bought several bottles. So, imagine my delight when, last week, I'm walking through the garden at Ma(i)sonry and, almost literally, run into Roger Harrison, the maker of this delicious nectar. I felt a little like my niece the first time she met Carrie Underwood!

As Roger and I talked about his work, he taught me a little of the process of making dessert wine. In contrast to the majority of winemakers, Roger actually looks for grapes, in his case Sauvignon Blanc and Semillon grapes, that have been blighted by mold. While his fellow winemakers do everything they can to keep mold away from their grapes, Roger actively searches for those grapes that other winemakers discard. He watches over these molded shriveling fruits and carefully encourages them to reach their fullest potential for sweetness. He nurtures these rotting fruits on their vines weeks after other winemakers have harvested their grapes. Then, when the sugar levels in the grapes reach their target, Roger carefully harvests them. He gently scrapes the mold from the juices time after time after time until only the pure sweet nectar of sweet wine remains. The result is pure bliss.

As Roger shared this tedious process with me, I couldn't help but think how winemaking once again teaches me so much about the love of God. God looks beyond the mold and stink that often covers humanity to see our potential for sweetness. Maybe, just as He distills the essence of nectar from my life, He can use me to nurture others who are molded and rotting, those who have been discarded by the majority of fellow men. May I be like Him who sees the sweetness that lies within even when covered by mold. 

Welcome to Bermuda

One of my favorite works of historic fiction for children is a story relating to the settling of the Jamestown colony, A Lion to Guard Us by Clyde Robert Bulla. It’s the story of 3 young children whose father leaves them with their mother in London of the early 1600s while he goes off to seek a better way of life in the wilds of what would become colonial Virginia. After their mother dies, the children manage to secure passage on a ship bound for Jamestown. Unfortunately, that ship is blown off course and is wrecked upon the reefs that surround the islands of Bermuda. The persevering spirit of these children, so intent upon reuniting with their father, makes a spell-binding introduction to the trials of those travelers who left their homelands for a chance at a better life in the Americas.

The story found in A Lion to Guard Us not only appeals to my love of history in general but also in specific because several of my ancestors were intimately involved with the Jamestown colony as well as with the Bermuda colony. For several years now, I’ve been privileged to participate in a conference that meets in Bermuda. I love to ride my scooter over The World’s Smallest Drawbridge and into Sandys Parish, named after a distant relative. Today, I’m making my way back to this rugged cluster of reefs and islands for my annual meeting. I’m tracking the flight’s progress on the video screen in the seat in front of me, mindful of the ease with which I approach this spit of land as opposed to the hazardous voyage of my ancestors. Looking at the map, it seems nothing short of a miracle that those long-ago travelers, caught up in a hurricane in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, should have been blown to relative safety on the crags of Bermuda. Though they were hundreds of miles off the course of their planned destination, they found safety and sustenance in this wild, uncharted world.

How like the Great Cartographer, who creates the maps of each of our lives, to provide a safe haven for them and for us in our own time. When the storms of life seem to blow us off our planned course, can we see the safe haven He provides for us? Can we yield to the deviation from the course we have charted to find the beauty and love in uncharted worlds?

For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. -- Jeremiah 29:11.