Be a Lighthouse
“Lighthouses don’t go running all over the island looking for boats to save; they just stand there shining.” Anne Lamott
I love that quote because it reminds me that the people who have helped steer my life rarely chased after me. They simply stood where they were, shining brightly enough that when I found myself navigating rough waters, I knew exactly where to look.
Although I grew up on the East Coast, I wasn’t raised near an official lighthouse. The closest thing we had was the Washington Monument. To a little girl growing up in the suburbs of Washington, D.C., that soaring obelisk felt like a lighthouse. It was the tallest structure in the city, visible for miles in every direction, quietly reminding me that home was never far away.
It wasn't until 2017 that I truly fell in love with classic nautical lighthouses. Gary and I were planning a motorcycle adventure through New England and Canada's eastern provinces, but first I was taking my mother back to her homeland for what would be her final visit. I had my motorcycle shipped to Vermont, while Gary rode his all the way from Colorado to our cousin's summer home in the Laurentians, just north of Montreal.
After a wonderful week at the Elvidge family reunion, Mom headed back to her home in Virginia with my brother, and Gary and I prepared for the next chapter of our adventure. We loaded his bike Beverly Hillbillies-style with our luggage and headed south to Vermont to pick up mine. From there, with two motorcycles and the open road ahead, our journey together began.
For this Colorado mermaid, the Atlantic coastline felt like coming home. Our first stop was Maine, my fiftieth state. The scenery was spectacular, the seafood unforgettable, and we quickly adopted the philosophy that if a restaurant offered multiple sizes of lobster, ordering the largest one was simply the right thing to do.
West Quoddy Head Light, is the eastern most point in the United States. perched dramatically above the crashing Atlantic. Pemaquid Lighthouse is the image famously featured on the back of the 2003 quarter representing the great state of Maine. There was something comforting about a lighthouse’s steady presence. Storms had come and gone. Ships had arrived safely because of its faithful beam. The lighthouse wasn’t trying to impress anyone. It simply did the work it had been created to do. Since that trip, I’ve become fascinated with America’s lighthouses.
The oldest still standing is Sandy Hook Lighthouse in New Jersey, first lit in 1764. Cape Hatteras rises nearly 200 feet above the North Carolina coast as our tallest lighthouse. Pocahontas Light in Maine stands only six feet tall, proving size doesn’t always matter. Surprisingly, the Statue of Liberty served as a lighthouse from 1886 to 1902, welcoming generations of ships and immigrants arriving with little more than hope in their hearts. It was the first lighthouse in the United States to use electricity.
The older I get, however, the less interested I become in the buildings themselves. I’m far more fascinated by the people who resemble them. Those who share their welcoming light and hope with a quiet, respectful presence.
Turn on the news or scroll through social media and it’s easy to believe the world has become darker than ever, as though we’re surrounded by one storm after another. But perhaps the light hasn’t disappeared. Perhaps we simply need to look toward it and the humans who serve as beacons.
If you’re navigating rough seas today, look for your lighthouse. Chances are it has been there all along. It may be a parent, a teacher, a mentor, a neighbor, a coach, or a friend. Someone who believes in you even when you’ve temporarily forgotten how to believe in yourself.
And if the waters around you happen to be calm at the moment, become that lighthouse for someone else. You don’t have to rescue every boat. You don’t have to have all the answers. You don’t have to chase people down: simply stand where you are, shine a little kindness, offer a little encouragement, and remind someone they matter. Hope has a remarkable way of multiplying.
August 7 is National Lighthouse Day. Whether you spend it or any other day of the year visiting a lighthouse, admiring one from afar, or simply remembering the people who have illuminated your own path, I hope you’ll pause to give thanks for those sources of inspiration.
After all, the brightest light we experience isn’t always the one that guides us safely home. Sometimes it’s the one we shine for someone else.
Thanks so much, Elizabeth. Lighthouses are such a cool jam. Great role models for humans to emulate. Do you have any near your coastal town?
Love this. Great message. Look for the light from others. Shine your light back. A good message for these cloudy times.