Breakwater
Sometimes, we need a Breakwater
Our path in life can be dictated by nature. We get caught in the current. We get tossed by the wind. We get swept up in the waves. Sometimes, we need a Breakwater.
The storms we face define a lifetime, but beneath the heartbreak lies a search for peace. When two characters, generations apart, seek their calm amidst the storms of life, they discover a truth they’ve longed to understand.
Hal
Miller struggles to find purpose in the pain of his life. He is
challenged by his wife’s declining health, which tests his strength and
shakes his faith.
Clark Miller's dreams are too tired to come true. He wonders if he’ll ever find happiness. When he reconnects with a lost love, everything changes—but his patience and insecurity are put to the test.
We first met the Miller family in Sons and Daughters of the Ocean, Kevin C. Mills’s first novel. Now Breakwater chronicles the lives of two more members of that seafaring clan. Both Hal and his grandson Clark seek to understand their destinies, and what they find is a power they never imagined.
Prologue
A Mighty Fortress
A mighty fortress is our God,
a bulwark never failing;
our helper He amid the flood
of mortal ills prevailing.
—Martin Luther
A Mighty Fortress
A mighty fortress is our God,
a bulwark never failing;
our helper He amid the flood
of mortal ills prevailing.
—Martin Luther
With just one step, it hits you like a fist.
The wind’s roar and the crashing seas hint at the coming fury. I don’t truly absorb the full brunt of its rage until I step clear of the banking that shields me from the ferocious easterly gusts. The wind nearly knocks me backwards with the first potent blow. I solidify my balance and move forward cautiously, but it reaches in and steals my breath away. The rocks are slick and treacherous. By the time I actually reach the start of the granite Breakwater, the angry waves are crashing over, sending spray soaring into the air. I glance out over the stone barrier and watch the sea rumble like a cauldron. The waves rear back and lunge ahead to crash violently into the granite wall before me.
The wind screeches and howls at a frantic volume. Gulls that attempt to fly can only hover sideways and drift helplessly with the wind. The rain pours down, icy and stinging like liquid daggers on my near-frozen skin.
The other side of the Breakwater is nothing but calm. The sea is flat and peaceful. The tormented ocean and the turbulent walls of water are barred from disturbing the tranquility of the harbor. Nestled safely around this quiet haven, the city rests amidst the storm. The Breakwater is like a thousand angels poised to combat the evil intent, the furious force of wind and waves. The barrier breaks the spirit of the storm, one crashing wall of water at a time.
The harbor was battered and bruised for years by storms like this. A small seawall was built in the early 1800s in hopes of providing protection. It was a mere stopgap and hardly any help against the potent nor’easters that walloped the harbor a few times each winter. It was as if when something was erected to serve as protection, the seas just sent something more monstrous to overwhelm it.
As more and more destruction occurred on the waterfront, the city’s businesses and shipping exploits were all severely damaged, if not ruined, by the rage the sea unleashed upon its shores. The lack of protection clearly prevented the harbor from realizing its full potential as a shipping port and anchorage for coastal vessels.
It wasn’t until later that decade that construction of the Breakwater was approved, and it took years of political wrangling to get the project under way. With each step of forward progress, the process took other steps backwards, as cost, design, and construction all created obstacles. It didn’t take long for the estimates to become higher than expected and the design to be proved inadequate. It seemed as though something would always come along to delay or derail the entire project.
Finally, in 1890 the structure was built out from Knox Point and into the depths of the harbor. And that winter one of the most severe storms of the century delivered a devastating blow. It nearly crippled all business interests and the entire shipping fleet. Soon it was determined that the new Breakwater would need to be raised and fortified, adding the weight of more cost and tons of stone to the endeavor.
By 1900, the base had been widened and height had been added to each mean high water. At the same time, a beacon was constructed on the very end to serve as protection and aid in navigation. Small lanterns were the first to light the way of mariners. In time, the outer edge of the landing was built up and served as the base for a permanent structure that was managed by the United States Lighthouse Service.
The wrath of the seething seas no longer hampered the heart of the harbor. Life continued peacefully within the security of the granite defense. The sea remained angry and destructive, but its menacing will was denied.
As I stand on the first few blocks of granite, the thwarted seas continue to storm the harbor, but its sanctity prevails. Eventually the seas will subside to rise again another day. The harbor, however, lies at peace, resting in the embrace of its defensive wall. I watch the power of the waves, denied and beaten into submission.
When the storm moves on, the valiant barrier stands proudly in its victory. It makes me wish my heart was as strong, as relentless, and as able to survive the potent powers that destroy. But it isn’t. It is battered and weary from the fight. With each storm, I simply hold on and brace for the next wave.
The wind’s roar and the crashing seas hint at the coming fury. I don’t truly absorb the full brunt of its rage until I step clear of the banking that shields me from the ferocious easterly gusts. The wind nearly knocks me backwards with the first potent blow. I solidify my balance and move forward cautiously, but it reaches in and steals my breath away. The rocks are slick and treacherous. By the time I actually reach the start of the granite Breakwater, the angry waves are crashing over, sending spray soaring into the air. I glance out over the stone barrier and watch the sea rumble like a cauldron. The waves rear back and lunge ahead to crash violently into the granite wall before me.
The wind screeches and howls at a frantic volume. Gulls that attempt to fly can only hover sideways and drift helplessly with the wind. The rain pours down, icy and stinging like liquid daggers on my near-frozen skin.
The other side of the Breakwater is nothing but calm. The sea is flat and peaceful. The tormented ocean and the turbulent walls of water are barred from disturbing the tranquility of the harbor. Nestled safely around this quiet haven, the city rests amidst the storm. The Breakwater is like a thousand angels poised to combat the evil intent, the furious force of wind and waves. The barrier breaks the spirit of the storm, one crashing wall of water at a time.
The harbor was battered and bruised for years by storms like this. A small seawall was built in the early 1800s in hopes of providing protection. It was a mere stopgap and hardly any help against the potent nor’easters that walloped the harbor a few times each winter. It was as if when something was erected to serve as protection, the seas just sent something more monstrous to overwhelm it.
As more and more destruction occurred on the waterfront, the city’s businesses and shipping exploits were all severely damaged, if not ruined, by the rage the sea unleashed upon its shores. The lack of protection clearly prevented the harbor from realizing its full potential as a shipping port and anchorage for coastal vessels.
It wasn’t until later that decade that construction of the Breakwater was approved, and it took years of political wrangling to get the project under way. With each step of forward progress, the process took other steps backwards, as cost, design, and construction all created obstacles. It didn’t take long for the estimates to become higher than expected and the design to be proved inadequate. It seemed as though something would always come along to delay or derail the entire project.
Finally, in 1890 the structure was built out from Knox Point and into the depths of the harbor. And that winter one of the most severe storms of the century delivered a devastating blow. It nearly crippled all business interests and the entire shipping fleet. Soon it was determined that the new Breakwater would need to be raised and fortified, adding the weight of more cost and tons of stone to the endeavor.
By 1900, the base had been widened and height had been added to each mean high water. At the same time, a beacon was constructed on the very end to serve as protection and aid in navigation. Small lanterns were the first to light the way of mariners. In time, the outer edge of the landing was built up and served as the base for a permanent structure that was managed by the United States Lighthouse Service.
The wrath of the seething seas no longer hampered the heart of the harbor. Life continued peacefully within the security of the granite defense. The sea remained angry and destructive, but its menacing will was denied.
As I stand on the first few blocks of granite, the thwarted seas continue to storm the harbor, but its sanctity prevails. Eventually the seas will subside to rise again another day. The harbor, however, lies at peace, resting in the embrace of its defensive wall. I watch the power of the waves, denied and beaten into submission.
When the storm moves on, the valiant barrier stands proudly in its victory. It makes me wish my heart was as strong, as relentless, and as able to survive the potent powers that destroy. But it isn’t. It is battered and weary from the fight. With each storm, I simply hold on and brace for the next wave.
