Some places become vacation destinations. Others quietly become part of your family’s story.
There is something about arriving at Lake Gaston that changes my pace before I ever step out of the car.
As the familiar roads wind toward Pea Hill Creek, the hurry of everyday life begins to disappear. The lake comes into view, the trees open just enough to reveal the water, and almost without realizing it, I take a deeper breath.
Home.
Not because it’s where I live, but because it’s where so many of the people I love have laughed, celebrated, rested, and simply been together.
Our family lake house is more than a place to spend a weekend. It is one of the greatest gifts my parents ever gave our family—not because of the house itself, but because of everything it made possible.
My parents gave all of us a love for the water. They taught us to appreciate quiet mornings watching the sun rise over the lake, lazy afternoons drifting in the cove, and evenings when the only soundtrack was laughter echoing across the water as the sun slipped below the trees.
What he created wasn’t just a getaway. It is a legacy of togetherness. A place where generations overlap—where grandparents watch grandchildren learn to swim, where cousins grow up side by side, and where conversations stretch long into the evening under the sound of water gently lapping at the shore.
Life jackets buckled.
Bare feet on warm docks.
The gentle rocking of the boat.
The excitement of heading out for another day on the lake.
Looking back, I realize boating wasn’t simply something we did. It became the setting where our family learned how to enjoy being together.
The lake had a way of slowing us down.
There were no packed schedules, no rushing from one activity to another, no endless distractions demanding our attention. We talked. We laughed. We watched sunsets that somehow never looked quite the same twice.
Those ordinary moments became extraordinary simply because we shared them.
No one understood that better than my dad.
He poured years of hard work into creating our place at Lake Gaston. Every improvement, every project, every long weekend spent building or repairing wasn’t simply about maintaining a house.
He was building a gathering place.
A place where my parents could welcome family.
A place where my brother’s family and mine could return year after year.
A place where five children, their spouses, and now a growing collection of grandchildren could run between the porch, the dock, and the water without worrying about the clock.
Looking back now, I don’t think he was building a lake house at all.
I think he was building opportunities.
Opportunities for cousins to become lifelong friends.
For grandparents to teach grandchildren how to fish.
For family traditions to grow naturally over decades.
For stories that would someday be told around entirely different tables.
Today, when I sit quietly beside Pea Hill Creek, I see far more than beautiful water.
I see my parents’ love reflected in every gathering.
I see my father’s determination in every board he repaired and every improvement he made.
I see generations continuing something he quietly began many years ago.
That’s the remarkable thing about places like this.
They become much more than destinations.
They become anchors.
They remind us who we are.
They give our children memories they’ll someday tell their own children.
They become part of a family’s identity.
Lake Gaston has certainly become that for ours.
Every sunrise reminds us to slow down.
Every boat ride reminds us to laugh a little longer.
Every shared meal reminds us that togetherness doesn’t happen by accident—it happens because someone cared enough to create space for it.
From the Porch
As I’ve grown older, I’ve realized that the greatest inheritance isn’t always found in a will or measured in dollars.
Sometimes it’s a porch where everyone gathers after dinner.
A dock where grandchildren learn to swim.
A favorite chair overlooking quiet water.
Or simply a place where every generation knows they’re always welcome.
Those are the gifts that become family history.
And every time I return to Pea Hill Creek, I’m reminded that while beautiful places are wonderful, it is the people who fill them with love that make them sacred.
And every time we are there, I am reminded that some of the greatest gifts we can receive are not just places, but the people who make those places sacred.
Before You Go…
At Chicks on the Road, we believe every destination has two stories.
The one everyone visits…
…and the one your family writes together.
Thank you for letting me share a little of ours.
I hope these stories inspire you to create beautiful memories with the people you love—because one day, they’ll become the stories someone else treasures.
We’ve created a few free resources to help you spend less time worrying about what to pack and more time making memories at Lake Gaston—including our Vacation Rental Packing Checklist, Kids’ Lake Vacation Packing Checklist, and Top 25 Things to Do at Lake Gaston guide.
Welcome home.
Lake Gaston
About the Author
Sherri holds an AA in Anthropology, a BA in History and Religious Studies from Albright College, and an MA in Ministry Leadership from Capital Seminary & Graduate School. She is the founder of Chicks on the Road Publishing, where she creates faith-filled resources designed to encourage women in their walk with Christ, their homes, and their family legacy.
Through storytelling, Bible studies, journals, devotionals, and memory-keeping projects, Sherri hopes to inspire others to live intentionally, preserve what matters most, and pass their faith to the next generation.
Creating from anywhere. Encouraging everywhere.