For a few years my parents and I made trips to different
resort areas in Mexico. We spent a week at a time on the beach eating too much
food, reading, drinking pina coladas and applying sunscreen. One summer my best
friend Sophie got to go with us. That summer she and I learned to windsurf.
That was the only time I’ve windsurfed, but I’ve been
reflecting on the experience this week.
Before you get in the water you have to spend some time on the
beach. Windsurf boards are cumbersome. Their sails are heavy. Thankfully I was
an athletic kid and had decent upper body strength from years of swinging a
bat.
There I was standing on the beach. I stepped up onto my
board. I leaned down and grabbed the rope between my feet and began lifting,
hand over hand, until the sail was upright. Finally, I grabbed the handle parallel
to the board.
Then I let go of the rope, the sail fell to the ground, and I
started the process over again. And again.
Each time my feet moved from the sand to the fiberglass the
instructor reminded me to find my balance - to aim for the center of the board
and give myself a second to get planted before lifting.
Out into the surf.
I was waist deep in waves. The water was clear and I could
see my toes. The board was in front of me. It was no longer just a step from
the sand to a flat, stable surface. Now, I planted by hands like I would on the
edge of a pool and pushed up. The board rocked from my momentum and the
pressure of the waves. As smoothly as possible I threw my knees to the spot
where I had practiced putting my feet when I was still on the shore. I missed.
Waist deep in waves. Hands on the edge. Swift push, kneeling, then – drenched.
Rinse and repeat. Eventually, I got it. Kneeling on the board I slowly got my
feet under me. Crouched like a catcher I inched to a space of balance. Slowly,
I stood. And waited. Every muscle in my body engaged trying to keep myself
upright.
The trick is to not wait too long. The waves will take you
down before you even touch the sail.
There’s all sorts of technique to lifting your sail when you’re
out in the waves and wind. My two afternoons of windsurfing when I was thirteen
leave me unqualified to advise you. All I can say for now is this: you don’t
want your sail to catch the wind before you have the handle.
And also, it takes a lot of balance to stay on that board
while pulling up a sail-full of water by a rope.
But.
If you can do it, and you catch the wind just right…it’s
pretty cool.
You can’t control the waves, but you can learn their rhythm.
You can’t control the wind, but you can angle your sail to
catch it.
Last Sunday at UBC Josh preached on the beauty of work as it
was originally intended. This week I’ve been thinking about how we are invited,
through our work, to co-create as we walk with Christ. Like my experience with
windsurfing, I’ve only just skimmed the surface in my reflection and engagement
with this way of life.
But I’ve had those moments when my knees and ankles knew
just when to bend to absorb the shock of the wave and the wind caught the sail
just right and I glided forward to spaces I couldn’t map or anticipate.
For me it can happen when writing a paper and the words come
in ways I didn’t know they could. Or when I’m doing the dishes and a wave of unexpected
understanding washes over me. Or when I jump in the car and arrive to be
present in a moment of a friend’s pain with timing that is beyond me.
There is preparation and learning prior to these moments.
There are deliberate choices. There are uncontrollable elements. We can totally
miss all of it if we are wrapped up in the past or future – our thoughts
swirling with worry.
But.
If we commit to seeking presence and we take note of the
nudging of the wind and the rhythm of the waves,
there are moments that we sail.
