Dear Reader Column 02-19-19

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Dear Reader,

We're in luck, today Sarah Beckman is our guest author. Sarah is also a national speaker and communications trainer. Her new book Hope in the Hard Places helps people walk through struggles with tangible help, biblical truth, and a heavy dose of hope. She also wrote the bestselling book, Alongside: A Practical Guide for Loving your Neighbor in their Time of Trial.

Sarah and her husband live in Albuquerque, NM and have three grown children and a big white pup. She loves to travel, hike, eat green chile, and spend time at the lake with family and friends.

Sarah is giving away five copies of her new book, Hope in the Hard Places. To enter the drawing, email info@sarahbeckman.org

Please welcome Sarah Beckman...

We have had a lake home in Northern Minnesota for almost a decade. Our first summer I gave every creature a name, from Charlie the Chipmunk who tried to sneak into my house via the screen door, to Billy the Bat who lived in the umbrella on the patio, and Eddie the Egret who languished on one leg on my floating swim raft. But none were as precious to me as the elusive loon couple I nicknamed Lenny and Lucy.

Of all my newfound friends, the loons quickly became the object of my obsession. If you don't know, common loons are duck-like birds that live on remote lakes in the northern part of the US and Canada, but ironically they are anything but common.

Loons have a beautiful black and white speckled body, a swath of white on their necks, a dark black head and bill, and beady red eyes. They aren't very good at flying, but they are fabulous at swimming and diving because their webbed feet sit further back on their bodies.

I admire their loyalty to one another, as they almost always live in pairs. But what they are known most for is their call. The loon's songs are a delicate balance between beautiful and haunting. Sometimes they make a low, continuous moaning call, and other times it's a high pitched, fast-paced trill. And then there is the territorial yodel, which is perhaps the most recognized of all.

To know a loon is to love them. It's hard not to be fascinated by their habits, movements, singing, diving and flying. And did I mention that they carry their babies on their backs when they're born? What's not to love about that? When Lenny and Lucy had a baby a few summers after we arrived, we named him Lucky.

Because I'm loon obsessed, one of my favorite pastimes at the lake is to stalk the loons in my kayak, sneaking up on them so I can watch their movements from a closer vantage point. Inevitably they dive under the water whenever I gain optimal proximity for a photo. But I love the quest...and the occasional gift when they remain in place and allow me to soak in their presence.

The lake and loons are synonymous for me now. And when I lie in bed at night and I hear their haunting call echoing through the darkness, I know I'm home.

-- Sarah Beckman

Sarah says she would love to hear from you. Email her at info@sarahbeckman.org to chat about writing, loons, or anything else you want to know--and be entered in the drawing for a copy of her new book, Hope in the Hard Places.

Thanks for reading with me. It's so good to read with friends.

Suzanne Beecher
Suzanne@DearReader.com

Comments

[Shelia Garrison]

When I read of your loon obsession I had to laugh. I had a similar obsession with the blue Herron. They have found their way to our Catawba River in NC. We're not near the coast either. Me and my Momma use to walk along the River every day to catch a glimpse of them. I even took a picture of them and it was featured in our local paper. I've not walked by the River for several years, not since my Mom was put on oxygen. But I do remember the thrill of spying them. Thanks for sharing your obsession.