windsurfing

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.