my seafaring companions

my seafaring companions

This summer I snorkeled for the first time. Wearing a motion sickness patch, a mask, tube flippers and a wet suit, I stood waist high in tranquil turquoise water. When I put my head in the water I suddenly discovered a beautiful world of brilliant and busy fish. They gracefully danced by and around me to some silent choreography, a spectacle of energy and vivid color. It was exquisite!

The next day my companions and I headed to deeper, rougher waters for a fresh snorkeling adventure. Again appropriately suited up, I put my head under the water. This time I saw the brown ocean bottom twitch with the stealthy movements of gray stingrays and friskier puffer fish. I’d been in the water about 10 minutes, frankly missing the iridescent parrot fish of the previous day, when overwhelming nausea suddenly hit me. I got my head up out of the water, yanked off the tube and swam as fast as I was able to the nearby dinghy where, once aboard, I heaved ho. And ho…ho…ho….

I’m presenting at a conference this weekend on the topic of “Riding the Waves of Life: how you keep your head above water.” How apt that I contemplate this while I still have the sunburn lines of my swimsuit from my (seemingly) everlasting stint leaning over the edge of that dinghy.

Here are some lessons my snorkeling experiences taught me on “Riding the Waves of Life”:

1. Who says having your head under water has to be a thoroughly bad thing?
My snorkeling adventures – both good and bad – were voluntary, but when in life we’re forced down, there may still be wonders to be found while we flail. Many major challenges are morally neutral. They just happen as part of a mortal experience. I believe Godly growth and learning come as (however gracelessly) we react and respond to our circumstances. I heard of a woman who returned from a near-death experience and shared the two questions she was asked on the other side: 1. How well did you love? and 2. What did you learn?

My husband’s near death to cancer in 2007 was not something either of us chose, but  in some ways we were closer to God, to each other and to our loved ones than we ever had been before. That was a treasured and generous gift and blessing – but I would never wish the circumstances on anyone.

2. Riding the waves of life builds spiritual muscles that can kick in when we need them most.
I’m still impressed that I managed to haul my pukey, middle-aged self up the aluminum rungs of the dinghy ladder.

Maybe it was my years of Jazzercise paying back.

Maybe it was sheer desperation sensing that the alternative was drowning in a bed of stingrays and puffer fish.

Maybe it was Saint Adjutor, patron saint of swimmers, buoying this Mormon girl up.

In my spiritual and life crises I’m not inclined to parse out the “hows” in the moment of my rescue; I’m just completely, utterly, humbly down-on-my-knees-and-shoutin’-“hallelujah” grateful.

Most of all, a lifetime exercising the spiritual muscles required to “let go and let God” is crucial.

3. Be the dinghy.
All of us will need to be carried through life’s rough waters. We all will need buoying (with or without Saint Adjutor’s assistance) at times in this rugged journey. So, when we are not underwater ourselves, please let’s be the dinghy for others, a place where they can be – if not relieved of their retching – at least in a safe place while they do it.

What experiences, anecdotes, memes or scriptures help keep your head above water in life’s rough waters?


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