Sometimes it seems life is aimlessly adrift at sea even if you’ve been in the same place for years.
The same job … same family … same church … same old way of doing things … doing the same things for fun … same ol’ same old.
On the ocean I can tell the Ship is moving because we’re steaming against the current. I can fix my eye on a cloud in the distance and measure our movement by comparing where it is in relation to the railing on the boat.
It’s not so easy in life.
Too often we settle for stability rather than growth. Familiarity trumps discovery. Comfort with what we know prevents tasting new excitements. Hardened beliefs destroy the possibility of new friends. Fear of losing what we’ve got smothers the life we have.
After years of doing the same thing, I left.
Honestly, like a marriage that fails, I’d actually checked out long before I actually resigned. It was stable, familiar enough so that I could do it with my eyes closed and there was a set way of doing everything. There was nothing to it but it was killing me.
I didn’t leave because I feared losing the comfort of everything I had … and I had a lot! I made lots of money, lived where I wanted, traveled the world on their dime and had more perks than I knew what to do with. I was scared to leave. My life was aimlessly adrift though I was firmly anchored to these things.
Then God intervened and circumstances became such that I resigned. It was painful, emotional, heart wrenching, shocking to others and exhausting to me.
It was damn scary.
Like a ship that wrecks on the reef, I was able to salvage some things. I kept some money, my house, and a handful of friends stayed with me. Throwing caution to the wind, I continue to travel as a way of coping with everything I’d lost.
Like a sailor stranded on an island, I learned new ways of doing things … quieter ways. I learned to listen better, speak less and no longer have to own whatever room I’m in. There’s no longer the need to boost my ego. Though I sometimes fret about the future, I’m very content with the present. More than ever, I’m living in the moment.
A mermaid swam from nowhere and I married Sarah. Our family is bigger than anything I had before. The handful of friends has been growing steadily peppering each day with delight. Like the hot, sticky, humid hot air, love is all around. We take great joy when people we care about break away and discover what they’re running to.
I don’t have any regrets.
Looking backwards, there’s lot I’m proud of, but I’m gazing ahead. We’ve constructed a new boat and are moving against the currents of social expectations. We’re not doing it the way everybody believes we should. We’re having fun.
Watching the water roll pass, I’m very mindful of lots of people. Like Sarah and I, their lives are not what they were a little while ago. They’ve cast off the old ways and are setting sail for better days.
When we crawl up in the crow’s nest to have a look around, we smile at all of the other self-constructed new lives that are sailing these same waters.
