Life Lessons from the Sea #3: Surviving the Gales of Life

The ocean is constantly moving, shifting back and forth against the shores of the world. Currents twine themselves through that sea of movement, maintaining their integrity in the face of a greater, sometimes chaotic force. 

So it is with us. We chart a course for ourselves across the turbulent sea of life. Like sailors, steering by the north star, we navigate best when we have a goal in mind and principles to guide us. But setting our path is not a one-time occurrence. All too often, gales alter our direction. A prime example of this is seen in the lives of recent tornado victims. Loved ones lost. Homes destroyed. Health damaged. Jobs gone.

Yet these people pick themselves up, right their boat, so to speak, and continue sailing. I’ve seen it again and again in friends and acquaintances who’ve survived natural disasters. It takes time, but they regain control of their lives. How do they do it?

1.      They refuse to be defined by their troubles, no matter how severe.

2.      They express gratitude for things that are easily taken for granted, like sunshine, friends, the ability to walk.

3.      They choose to be tough.

4.      They’re proactive, working hard to take control of their lives.

5.      They help others do the same.

6.      When they need to cry, they do, and they aren’t ashamed.

7.      They choose to be positive.

8.      They deepen their faith.

9.      They reach out to others to give and receive support.

10.  Once life has stabilized, they resume their quest to reach their goals.

It’s usually not a natural disaster that blows us off course. Sickness, injury, financial hardship, discouragement—these are a few of the tempests that enter our lives. When they do, hold fast to your goals, steer by your guiding principles. You will triumph in the end. 

What difficulty upended your world and how did you work your way through it? Or are you still?

Life Lessons from the Sea #2: Finding our way back home

 

‘I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide

Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;

And all I ask is a windy day, with the white clouds flying,    

And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.’ -John Masefield

                                           

  

We’ve all been ocean spray at one time or another, leaving our homes to seek the unknown. Sometimes we simply drift away. Or we leave amid raging storms. Maybe we’re flung into the air from the tips of cresting waves, a normal separation, but separation nonetheless. Sometimes we’re trapped behind barriers so tall or rocky, we wonder if we’ll ever return.

I left my childhood home many years ago. Since then, I’ve drifted over mountains and across plains. I’ve nurtured gardens and sculpted streams. Storms have swept me to strange places I never expected to see. I’ve rained on deserts, snowed on ice fields, then returned to the clouds to try it all again.

But eventually, like water running to the sea, I find myself headed home.

When water rejoins the ocean, it grows in strength. A single drop can shoulder only a speck of soil, but the ocean carves continents. It’s always moving, even in moments of calm. Sometimes it swirls into squalls or tempests. Either way, it’s cleansing, changing. 

A visit home is a time to gain perspective, a time to assess where we've been and where we are headed. Ideally, it’s a time of communion and peace, when we renew relationship and restore strength. 

Most people have somewhere they consider home, somewhere that calls to them, no matter how far they drift away, somewhere they can rediscover themselves. What does home mean for you? When was the last time you were there?

Life Lessons from the Sea #1: Slow down and soak it in

Racing to the Sea

I’ve always been a water bug. Maybe it’s because I’m a Pisces. Maybe it’s just because. My earliest memories involve running through sprinklers, swimming in Lake Cumberland, and playing with my family at the pool. 

As a youth, I vowed never to give in to swimsuit-a-phobia. I swore not to miss out just because I didn’t like how I looked in my suit. I’ll admit, that vow’s been tested a time or two in my adult years.Still, I trek to the pond, the pool, the lake whenever time allows. Sometimes I slog barefoot through streams, even when there’s a bridge. But the best swim of all is in the ocean. 

During grad school, my hubby and I lived twenty minutes from the Pacific. We spent as much time there as possible, acquainting our first born with the joys of the sea. She took to it quickly. When she first learned to walk, she’d drop to her knees as soon as we reached the beach. Crawling got her to the water faster.

Her little hiney would bounce up and down as she crawled, full speed, toward the crashing waves. That eagerness for adventure perfectly characterizes her. Over the next few years, we enjoyed countless hours near the ocean, skipping through the water, shrieking and laughing when it caught us by surprise. 

In my memory, our time seaside stands still. That’s one of the beauties of the sea, a slowing of life, so that you can truly take in its value and its beauty.

Since then, each of our children has experienced the ocean, at least briefly, despite living in landlocked Oklahoma. When we can’t manage to get away, we savor sunsets over Sailboat Bridge or watch a sliver of lake glitter through our back window.

So, to celebrate my love for all things sea-related, I’m beginning a blog series, to be posted each Friday—Life Lessons from the Sea.

I hope you will enjoy this as much as I do. 

What are some of your favorite water-related memories?  

Proud to be Walking!

Today, when I drove to Wal-mart, I did not park in the closest spot. In fact, I giggled as I passed it by. That's because I can finally walk!
 

I’d always taken walking for granted, until I tore out my ACL last Christmas. For the past four months, I’ve hobbled around home, used a walker or a cane, and rode a wheelchair through grocery stores and amusement parks. Yes, I still must amuse the family.
 

When I hurt my knee, my first thought (okay, second thought—you don’t want to hear my first) was wow, this is gonna be inconvenient. No doubt it has been. But I never dreamed of the things I would really miss.
 

*    Physical play with my kids—wrestling, trampoline, baseball, bike rides…sigh.

*    Hiking through the forest when the dogwoods bloom. This is a yearly tradition for me, one that I sorely missed.

*     Jogging. My other stress relief, after chocolate--but who has stress with 7 kids, right? Doc says I can jog in June—woo hoo! But no curving. It’ll be straight there. Stop. Turn around. Straight back. Try not to laugh if you see me.
 

But I’ve found things to be grateful for—supportive friends and family, kind strangers, my overall health, the fact that I will recover, the strength I’ve gained through this hardship.
 

I’m well on my way to healing. In other words, I no longer move like a child who’s pretending to be a horse! I hope I’ll always remember to treasure my blessings.
 

What things have you taken for granted in life and what was your wake-up call?

Parenting Payday

Last year, my oldest daughter graduated from high school. I felt such a jumble of feelings I could hardly sort them out. Pride—well, of course. She’s done an amazing job. Shock—not that she made it, but that she’s old enough—where did all the years go? Fear—is she ready for the big, bad world? Sadness—am I ready to let my baby girl go?

Well, here we are again. Another year older, another year bolder. Tonight, at age eighteen, Amanda’s  graduating with her associate’s degree. Pride is the dominating feeling today. Although there’s still a thrill of fear. She’ll be leaving on a mission soon. A year and a half away from home. Possibly half a world away, too. We’ll find out where she’ll serve this summer.

I am so pleased with her choices and her hard work. I’m awed by her determination to reach her goals. Raising children isn’t always easy. It involves more blood, sweat, and tears than I’d like to admit. And prayers, laughter, and lots and lots of talk. Today is a payday, one of many to come, when I can proudly say, “That’s my baby.”

When have you found pride and satisfaction in your children? When has hard work finally paid off for you? I’d love to hear your stories.