Uncharted: A Journey from the End to a New Beginning hit the Amazon digital bookstore shelves a year ago, so it seems an appropriate time for an update from the sea, particularly given the current state of the world. If I’ve learned one certainty through this season of history we are currently writing, it’s that there IS always calm after the storm. And there’s always a storm brewing after the calm. Honing those life navigation skills has become more important than ever.
At some point, we’ve all most likely read The Odyssey. If you need some perspective, now is not a bad time to reread the ultimate lost-at-sea epic tale (AKA the bad day that never seemed to end). I offer a possibly more aptly titled Odysseus: The Guy Who Seriously Could Not Catch a Break. My point--it could be worse. Just when nothing else could go wrong, well, it did. (Side note: If you’re looking for a way to change up your quarantine routine, The Odyssey also comes in graphic novel form if you’re not up for reading the first ever country and western song in its original feature length.)
Ten years ago I started this blog as a way to inspire anyone in need of inspiration. Prior to this turning point in my life, I never thought divorce was in my future, but I sure never thought I’d live through a worldwide pandemic! If I’m honest, I sometimes feel like the girl who seriously can not catch a break. I keep swinging and the curve balls keep coming! More than anything, I want to sail with a map in exciting blue waters, on course for novel discoveries, and lay anchor in an unexplored world to build something transformative.
Things don’t always work out as planned.
I mean, I’ve been at this single sailing thing for a decade, so I’ve learned a thing or two and added masterful captain skills. When the clouds roll in and cover the stars, navigation becomes a challenge. It takes courage to sail in the deep water of relationships again. Letting myself love and be loved means heading into the wider ocean where unknown obstacles wait in the inky waters. My vessel is seaworthy, but something damages the rudder rendering me stuck at sea looking for my paddle.
All that work exploring and learning how to survive the obstacles prepared me to set sail again, and I have some choices here in this reality where I’m stranded in the middle of the great big ocean hanging on as the swells come.
A good captain doesn’t panic. A seasoned captain knows her ship inside out, it’s capabilities, what it can withstand, and its limitations. A smart captain protects her ship and crew, ensures adequate resources are on board to make the journey. A wise captain looks at what’s on the horizon through her periscope, takes it all in, and makes a decision--What course do I take to get my ship and crew to our destination?
Changing course is a hard decision, but heading further into territory that will require more resources than you have is a suicide mission.
Someone sent me this quote a few years ago, and I have it pinned where I see it often.
“She is like the sea, wild and free--
he knew he could never fully explore her expanse,
and he would most certainly become lost in her waves forever;
yet with a torn sail and a smile, he set sail anyhow.”
I thought my life would look very different ten years into this chapter. I thought I’d find a sailor headed in the same direction, we’d catch the wind in our sails, and fight sea creatures together in search of all the treasures we could dig up. I envisioned nights listening to the crashing waves and drawing pictures in the star-filled sky with a partner I could defend when the pirates came who’d also defend me. In reality, sometimes the boat breaks down, and I have to choose between patching the hull or mending the sail. That’s just life at sea, navigating the calm and the storms with my best captain skills.
That’s one large group of analogies, so I’ll lay it out sans metaphor.
Regardless of my circumstances, which are ever-changing, showing up with a positive attitude and the right mindset consumes most of my energy and desire. In these months of staying home to combat an invisible, elusive enemy, that has required my physical, emotional, financial, and spiritual resources. When my resources start depleting, of course I start looking around for ways to replenish them. I feel more isolated, which isn’t good for anyone. (Yes, even you introverts are missing people.) I come up with a plan and put it into action with rigor and expectation because I am the girl you want in your corner when things go sideways. I rely on my resilience, loyalty, experience, and faith in the promise that all things are working to bring blessings my way. And you know what? I’m tired. I’m worn out. I’m depleted and so are the people around me. Honestly, I found myself frustrated that those I’ve built up aren’t fighting right along with me, helping me figure this thing out, encouraging me when I’m a little down because I always find a way to do those things for the people around me. And I realize most folks are mustering everything they’ve got to keep their own boat afloat right now. If ever there was a season to extend grace, it's now.
So I’m drifting a little bit in these times we are calling uncertain. And I’m becoming OK with that. My kids need me in different ways as 16 and 18-year-old young adults, and those ways include watching their boats sail further away from mine. That means I did something right because they are in their own boats, eager to take on their own adventures, but I miss having the little deck mates running around. Work asks for more and gives less, but that’s because I’m a leader. I’m giving myself navigational grace in this season of life since making concrete plans begs for an implosion. So what’s next?
Back to dreaming big, mending the small tears in my sail so I’m ready to catch the wind when the skies and the direction are clear of heavy clouds.
