Saints out of Sailors.

I often find that I discover songs that say what I need to hear.

I found another one.

Of course, it has its theme along the lines of sailing.  Yes, that might be cliche seeing how I live on a ship.  But actually I don't know if it is because most people don't live on a ship.  But nevertheless, it's something that I can understand and relate to.  When songs talk about storms and waves and anchors, I understand them, I've lived them, literally.  I know what it's like in a storm, I know what it looks like to be sailing through incredibly large waves, I have how an anchor holds a ship (sometimes in places and at times when you don't want to be held).

I get it.

And that makes these songs even more meaningful.



Saints Out Of Sailors - Flannel Graph
http://noisetrade.com/flannelgraphmusic/five-foot-three

Here in the silence I stand like a stone
The face in the mirror don't look like my own
The cards that have been dealt make me just want to fold
But I won't give you up
No I won't give you up
No I won't give you up 
Cuz your anchor still holds

The wind, it's been trying to blast us to bits
And the waters' been trying to swallow this ship
My heart has been throwing the gold overboard
But I won't give you up
No I won't give you up
No I won't give you up
Cuz you are my reward

               The one who makes saints out of sailors
               Carries my frame on his shoulders
               He makes me lie down on green pastures
               And leads me beside quiet waters
               And he's coming for me

Here in the darkness I see in the night
The mist and the waves try to fill me with fright
And my weary soul waits as the morning, it dawns
But I won't give you up
No I won't give you up
No I won't give you up
Cuz your light leads us on
Leads us on

               The one who makes saints out of sailors
               Carries my frame on his shoulders
               He makes me lie down on green pastures
               And leads me beside quiet waters
               And he's coming for me
               
               Oh he's coming for me
               Yeah he's coming for me

He won't give me up
He won't give me up
No he won't give me up
Cuz he's loved me from old

   

In Pieces Pt. 3

I love puzzles.

That's no secret.

I talk about puzzles often.  But that's because I love them.

I had been in England for less than 12 hours and I decided to go for a walk through the town of Harpenden (for the purpose of just going to Sainsbury's and Boots because I could) and I walked passed several charity shops on my way to the post office to exchange money.  Obviously I should just go in.  So I did and I found a 4,000 piece puzzle.  For £3.  (That's like, $5).  I was unsure if I should invest so I walked on.

Then I decided investing was the way to go.

But I couldn't find it again after going through all the charity shops 2 more times so I settled on a 3,000 piece puzzle for...wait for it...99p.  (That's about $1.50)

A quality investment.

So I now have a very large puzzle to do which covers about 1/3 of the floor of my room.

I have to do this particular puzzle a little bit differently then I usually would.

Reason being - there's 3,000 pieces.

I sorted through them all and did the outside edge as is the usual beginning.  For the inside pieces, if I flipped them all over and laid them all out on the floor so I could see them all, I would be ridiculously overwhelmed and I would have no idea where to start. (Plus I wouldn't be able to walk over to my wardrobe...)  It would be hard for me to focus on any one section because then I would see a piece that I would know fits at this other place and then another piece that goes over there and so on.  My mind would be so scattered.

So this time, I first decided to start by separating major colors.  If you can see from the picture, there's a lot of blue pieces: sky, mountain and water.  So I sorted through all the pieces yet again to separate the blue pieces from all the other colors.  Once that was finished, I then started sorting all the blue pieces between ones that just have blue (that part will take, umm, forever...) then the water pieces and water with leaves, and then the blue pieces that have bits of trees and leaves and mountains.  I started to get more and more detailed so I could put them together without being overwhelmed by all the other ones that go elsewhere.  This process will continue until I have it finished.

Now some of you may stop here and think I'm just ridiculous for doing this and loving every moment of it and some of you may be getting frustrated at the thought of taking this on.  Understandable.

But I love it.

There is a great sense of accomplishment when one puts the final piece of a puzzle in place.  When the pieces get put together, I can say that I have successfully achieved something.

God speaks to me when I do my puzzles.  (Read a bit about that in In Pieces Pt. 1.)

Doing these puzzles is how I process things.  It's how I can think through things that are flying through my mind.  It's how I can take the next steps.  And as I do that, I realize things about myself through what I'm doing and how I'm doing it.

I'm in a season right now of really needing to sort through a lot.  When I look at all of the pieces floating around my mind and my heart, it's easy to be overwhelmed at it all because there's just so much and I don't know how to put them all together.  But when I can start to narrow it all down and start to look at the smaller details, it becomes much more manageable and I'm able to focus more.  When one area gets put together, I can then move onto the next because I'll recognize the pieces that then connect to what I just finished.

And the process goes on.  

To some, the separating of puzzle pieces, especially so many, seems like such tedious work that requires patience.  This is true, but if it helps to put the puzzle together without being overwhelmed and stressed, it is well worth it.

I think this puzzle is going to mean a lot more to me than I realize now.  

In doing this, my hope is to actually finish this by the time I leave England in about a month or so.

Challenge Accepted.

Heave To

"Let's heave to and have a swim"

I have heard that phrase several times over the last month or so. (Thank you Captain Jeremy)

I will try to best describe what that means in a language that can be understood by all and not just those who know sailor talk...

Heaving to is the action one would take on a sail boat to stop it's forward motion.  One way in which this action can be taken is to tack (which means to turn the boat so that, for example, the wind coming from the left then comes from the right) but keeping the sails in the front (i.e. the jib) tied down on the same side of the boat, letting the main sail (the big one in the middle) move to the other side on its own and turning the rudder angle into the wind (see picture if it helps...the arrow is the wind direction).  By doing this, all forward motion will stop and you will pretty much just sit there even though the wind is blowing in the sails.

A swim, I think, is pretty self-explanatory, though the means of getting into the water differ from person to person depending on how adventurous they are.  From simply climbing slowly down the ladder (which always takes at least twice as long to actually get in...), jumping off the side, jumping off the very tip of the bowsprit (the long piece of wood at the very front with a net underneath which is higher than it looks when you're out there), or rigging up a rope swing.

We have had some very nice, very calm, sails the last few weeks which I am so very thankful for.  I have never seen such calm water before in my life.  It was beautiful.

It would be just before lunch time and the captain would emerge from his cabin to look out at the beautiful day and say, 'Let's heave to and have a swim.'  

So that's what we would do.
We would stop what we were doing, whether on watch, cooking, cleaning, working, reading, or even sleeping, and go for a swim.  We would enjoy the beautifully clear, blue water then lay on deck soaking in the sunshine.  Lunch would be served on deck and then we'd carry on.

Why do we do that?  Well, first, it's fun.  A lot of fun.  (Except the times when you get a rope burn on your fingers...that stops the fun quite quickly)  But also, we are able to take a break, look out into the open sea where there is no land in sight, switch off for a bit, laugh, have fun, and just be.

I need to do that more often.

It's easy to be constantly going, going, going all the time and never slow down, never stop to look at where you are, never see the beauty around you, never be grateful for the life you have, never just be.

It's easy to always be looking at the destination and the ETA for when you're supposed to get there and that is all that you focus on.  That's all you can see, where you not yet are.  But when you heave to and have a swim, for that hour, those things don't matter and you can enjoy life, enjoy the water, have lunch and relax.

It's a chance to take a step back and just breathe and refresh.

It makes the rest of the journey even better.

Again, I need to do that more often.

   

Surviving the Squall

This is one of those stories you tell the parents AFTER it’s happened.

This is another story of not giving up.

We set out from Gozo on a beautiful Mediterranean afternoon.  We hoisted all 5 sails then cut the engine.  We were sailing.  It was quite and the winds were great and we were doing well.  We were heeled over quite a bit.  So much that we were almost walking on the walls.  It was a challenge to get out of bed.  One’s center of gravity tends to change quite a bit when one is constantly leaning for a long period of time.

Then things began to change. 

The wind started to pick up and so did the swell.  The boat was rocking.  Quite a bit.  Due to the waves, I started to feel the beginning stages of seasickness.  My spaghetti from the night before wasn’t sitting too well.  So I went outside to sit and have some fresh air.  I sat on the side of the wheelhouse outside so I could have something to lean against as I was tired of using all my ab muscles to stay upright.  The rocking continued and then it started to sprinkle a bit.  Then it started to rain harder.  And harder.  And harder.  The winds picked up with a heavy rainfall - hello squall.  

By definition, a squall is a sudden violent gust of wind or a localized storm.  

It sounds less intense then it actually is. 

My roommate raced inside to close our porthole as the winds picked up so much, it was pushing the sails so hard the ship heeled over above the windows.  As she ran inside, we heeled over even more to the point of the deck reaching the water line.  Yes.  The side of the deck started to go under a bit.  It was time to go inside.

I got on my wet weather gear, (thank you 2 pound charity shop find) and went outside to see where I could help.   We had to get some sails down.  The squall was still with us.  After almost half an hour or so of this crazy squall, it died down and then the sun returned along with blue skies and it was gone.

Lunch was had.

My watch began at 4PM and it was looking quite nice.  We raised another sail and things were looking good.  The sun was setting beautifully and I was hopeful the worst was over.  

I was wrong.  

During that squall, there was a lot of damage done to the ship.  One thing that I had to take care of was taking the mizzen sail (the sail at the very back) completely off because the boom, (the long beam at the bottom of the sail) had come off.  How that happened, I will never know.  So as we were taking the sail off, the winds started to pick up again.  The flying jib started flapping which is a sound I’m not such a fan of and a slightly smaller squall came through, this time with no rain.  So that was nice.

Throughout all of this, the swell of the water was so high so we were still rocking quite a bit.  

Then, 1AM hits and then comes a force 10 squall.  That’s not so nice.  It was a mess outside.   We lowered all the sails in a hurry, harnesses and life jackets on everyone on deck, lines flying every where, the boat rocking back and forth, rains pounding down and wind rushing through.  It’s hard to describe in words.  Here’s a picture of the aftermath.  

Not a squall I ever want to experience again.

We got all the sails down and it passed and we were left with just the motor for the next day or so until we could reach a bay to lower the anchor and rest.  Thank the Lord the engine had no trouble whatsoever during this time.  However, the swell was still so big, the ship was rocking back and forth so much, it made walking, and even sitting, quite difficult.

We finally made it to a safe haven, lowered the anchor and we were able to rest.

The next day we got up to fix whatever the storm had broken as best we could.  

We then come to find out that we were unable to hoist the anchor using the hydraulics.  So we were quite literally stuck.  The only other option besides cutting it off and leaving it behind was to lift it by hand.  

Which we did.  

For at least 5 hours. 

It was a lot of work that had to be done only bit by bit.  

Through endurance yet again, we managed to get it up with a great shout of victory and off we went for another 17 hour journey to Piraeus, the port of Athens, which was our original destination.  It was easy peasy and I am so thankful for that. 

No squalls.

We made it.

With a beautiful sunrise to welcome us

What have I learned from this?

Not giving up.  There were countless times of fear and wanting to give up but there was absolutely no way I could give up.  It just wasn’t an option.  We were all pushed to our breaking points but we kept going and made it through.

Overcoming fear.  There is a lot to be fearful about while sailing.

Trusting God.  There were moments when I questioned if He was really there and if He was going to take care of us.  He did.

God is faithful and He is with us always.

Confidence in my sailing abilities.  I always worry that I don’t know what I’m doing half the time when it comes to sailing but I realized that I actually know a fair amount.  

Staying strong through the chaos.  There was a lot of chaos and somehow, I kept going because there were people counting on me.  

The list could go on and as I sit here outside a cafe in Greece writing this, more things keep coming to mind of what I’ve learned and what I will learn through this.  

If we don’t go through the storms, we’ll never grow strong.  At the time, they are pretty awful and scary and it makes you want to craw in a corner and give up, but when you come out of them, there’s a strength that you can carry that wasn’t there before.  

I’d be ok if I never went through another squall again but there’s no guarantee that won’t happen.

I'm happy to be on land again.

I am thankful for my Ladies of the Bridge.

3 Years Later

It was this day, 3 years ago, that I first took a trip across the pond and stepped on to English soil.  It was a day I won't soon forget.  I got off the plane not knowing what lie ahead.  I didn't even know who was picking me up at the airport let alone what the future would hold.

It was the start of a journey that I could never conjure up in my little imagination of possibilities.  A journey of very new beginnings around every corner, of meeting new faces, of going to a ridiculous amount of places, of being scared, of being challenged, of letting go, of running, of sailing, of love, of serving, of hurt, of failing, of succeeding, of not knowing what I'm doing, of deep, lasting friendships, of struggle, of tight spaces, of teaching, of learning, of growing, of maturing, of digging deep, of finding my dreams, of discovering what it meant to be me.  The list goes on.

I think back to this beginning with such a fondness that can hardly be expressed.  I look at pictures

simply of the Oval and a flood of memories and emotions come and I can't help but be so incredibly grateful for the newness of that beginning and what came from it.

It's impossible to tell all the stories and all that has been learned and experienced without turning this into a novel.  I could talk about what I did, where I've gone, what I've learned, how God has used me, how I've changed, how I've learned to dream and see those come to being, all the people I am beyond blessed to have met and shared life with, of finding myself, of the challenges, of learning to run and loving it, of my guitar playing, of sailing...

I have a good story.

A story worth telling.

A story worth living.

Looking back brings so much gratitude for what God has done and brings hope for what's ahead.  It's easy to get quite hopeless when things in life get difficult and it's hard to see anything other than the struggle.  But when I think of the good, I can't help but be grateful with hopeful expectation that there is more good and joy to come through the trials.

Finally brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.

Philippians 4:8

I think of these things, of the struggles, of overcoming, of friendships, of fond memories I hold so dear to my heart, and I turn back the the One who gave it all and who keeps giving through the storms.

One things that was spoken over me on my DTS was that God had great plans for me and that He was so excited for those plans.  It's been pretty exciting so far and I want to be even more excited with Him for what's to come.

'For I know the plans I have for you,' declares the Lord, 'plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.'

Jeremiah 29:11

That is a verse that becomes ever so true every day.  The whole context of it.

For those that have been a part of this journey, I thank you.  You have played a vital and irreplaceable role in this story of mine and it would not be what it is without your presence.

So here I am.  Still very much in this ever changing journey.  It's been quite the three years.  I wonder what the next will bring.

    

Saturday Breakfast.

Saturday Breakfast.

When I hear those 2 words put together like that, I can't express the joy that goes through my heart.  And my stomach.

Saturday Breakfast.

Out of all the inconsistencies and unexpected changes in life, one thing has remained faithful.

Saturday Breakfast.

(It might not always be on a Saturday but that's almost irrelevant.)

It's Friday.  The end of the week.  The weekend is coming and a gloriously hopeful and potential filled question circulates through my mind.

"What am I going to have for breakfast tomorrow?"

This is an exciting quest to ponder of.  Now our normal breakfasts here are all fine and dandy complete with toast and peanut butter and jams of all flavors, cereal, fruit, more peanut butter, tea and the like.  But there's something so great about being able to leisurely wake up and contemplate what creativity I can conjure out of the week's leftovers in the galley.  The choice of the day is almost always eggs.  (Though sometimes buckwheat pancakes and bacon or french toast with caramelized apples makes an appearance...)  I hop up on the counter to reach the egg cupboard, crack them open, whisk it with salt, pepper, and a bit of thyme (along with the inevitable time/thyme jokes...), and make my way to the fridge for what delicious veggies are available for my consumption.  I compile them on the cutting board and chop.  As the cooking process begins, there is an aroma ever so pleasing.  I plate it well (presentation always makes food taste better), sit at the table with knife and fork in hand, (knife in the right and fork in the left like a proper adult) and enjoy what lies before me.

Ahhhh.

Saturday Breakfast.

I don't quite know how to best express in words the goodness that is Saturday Breakfast.

But it's good.

   

First Watch

Don't give up on the first watch.

Here's how it goes:
Alarm goes off at 7:20.
I hit snooze a couple times then slowly use all of my core muscles to hoist myself out of bed on a rocking boat.
I put on my spectacular brightly colored green waterproof trousers and my wellies.  (Kellie's Wellies...)
I put those essential pieces in my eyes so I can see the world.
I grab my coat and go.
Next, I fill a little green plastic cup with corn flakes and mix in some delicious homemade apple sauce (with just a touch of bourbon cooked in for added flavor...) for breakfast.
Then it's up the stairs to the wheelhouse.

The watch gets passed over to me, I check the sails, check the course, and we pray and it begins.

But then comes the feeling that no one enjoys - seasickness.  A feeling that I am coming to know a bit more than I would have ever cared for.  It affects you in every possible way.  It's a hard feeling to describe to those who have not experienced it in full effect but it's not so much fun.

I race to the rail outside and hang out over the side with some not so nice things coming back up through my system.  There goes dinner.  I like to keep my peas inside my stomach, thank you very much.

I come back in, quite a bit more refreshed (again, it's a feeling that is so very difficult to explain...), then I grab a piece of toast to fill my stomach up again.  But then the thought that is always circulating through the back of my mind surfaces yet again and I think to myself...

I.  CAN'T.  DO.  THIS.

I don't know what I'm doing.
Or why I'm doing it.
Or how to do it.
I don't want to do this.

It's hard.

Very hard.

Every day is a challenge.

But it's just the first watch.

There will be another one in 8 hours time.  Then another one.  Then another.  And when you're on a 4, 5, or 7 day sail, there's many more 'anothers' to come.

So what does one do in the midst of that?
In the midst of a storm that you have no control over?
In the midst of a squall coming and blowing the sail so hard a line snaps?
In the midst of not being able to walk in a straight line for a week?
In the midst of constantly yelling at your stomach to feel better?
In the midst of the not knowing?

You don't give up.

You keep pushing through because there's another watch to come.  There are sails to raise and lower and adjust, there is a course to keep to.

If you give up on the first watch, you miss the dolphins jumping outside, you miss the sunrises and sunsets, you miss watching the stars and knowing their names, you miss the bonding that comes from hanging over the side of a ship with someone, you miss the laughs and conversations and 'Would You Rathers' with the others with you, you miss the adventure, you miss working hard and accomplishing a task, you miss the beauty of the moon and its light reflecting on the water.

You miss seeing God in the journey.

I don't want to miss that.

This is just the first watch and I'm not going to give up now.


 

Glowing Dolphins

Current Location - Falmouth, England

Welp, after a long month and a half of difficult circumstances, we are now docked in Falmouth after a great 2 and a half day sail from Liverpool, sailing with 4 sails up the whole way.

A year and a half ago, God simply stated - "I want you to dream".  So the next day, I got up, went to Costa Coffee and wrote out a list of my "dreams", a list of things that I wanted to do or see.  (Read more about that HERE).  Over the last year and a half, I have been able to cross off a number of those dreams.

Yet another dream was just ticked off the list.

It was 11:45PM and I was preparing myself for my next 4 hour watch from midnight to 4:00AM.  I had my peppermint licorice tea in hand as I was leaning against the rail on the main deck of the ship just enjoying the fresh air when Kristin spots something jumping and swimming through the water on the starboard side.

They were dolphins.

They were glowing.

Now the day before, we had seen our fair share of dolphins in the water playing around.  As we were

going, we could just see a pod of them racing towards us just to play and show off.  It was an amazing sight to see and it didn't ever get old.  I loved standing on the foredeck just watching them.

So these glowing dolphins.  It was so dark all around and all you could see was the entire shape of a dolphin being lit up by what seemed like green lights and you could see the stream from where they were swimming as they jumped around, surfing in our wake.  It was one of the most amazing things I've seen.  And they kept coming back all throughout my watch in the middle of the night swimming with us.

I don't know all the scientific reasons as to how that happens, be it plankton or phosphorescence or something else.  I don't need to know.  I just know it was beautiful and it was a great way to start my watch...at midnight.

The first thing I thought of when I saw these glowing dolphins as we were sailing was that this exact thing was one of those dreams on my list and it is happening right now.  It was a dream I had forgotten and not thought was every going to come true.  Especially not when I was making that list in a coffee shop in Liverpool.

God knows and remembers our dreams.

Every little part of them.

Even ones about seeing glowing dolphins.

   

Running At Sea Level

A picture to paint for you:

As I write this, I am sitting in the wheelhouse on Next Wave next to the radar and helm (I really want to go sailing...), after having gone on a great run through one of the best parks I've ever been to, with the sounds of weather reports and other communications periodically coming over the radio looking out at the misty night in Birkenhead, England (sadly not much to look at...) with Peppermint Licorice Tea (the best tea I've ever had...ever) by my side in my awesome Colorado mug and the sound of popcorn being popped down in the Galley.

What a long and great sentence.

2 things with basically the same meaning:

THE FIRST:

I am fully convinced that if I can successfully make a bed on Next Wave, I can make a bed anywhere.

Really.

You try making a bed with sometimes less than 2 feet of head space to work with.  And then do that on a top bunk.  It's quite the challenge.  One becomes a bit more flexible and able to fit into tight spaces while attempting to crawl into the bed to put on a fitted sheet and duvet and make it nice and neat as you crawl out.  It takes some skill.  Skill which I am well on my way to acquiring.

Any bed after this is going to be a piece of cake.

THE SECOND:

Most of my summer days consisted of hiking, running, and rollerblading, all at a reasonably high altitude, Denver's not called the Mile High city for nothing.  The air is a bit thinner there.  But after a few days of needing to stop and catch my breath before I got to the point of passing out while doing something active (like walking up stairs...) I finally got more used to it and I could rollerblade for a solid hour without sucking up all the air.

I've gone on a few runs since being back at sea level and I definitely noticed a significant difference in my breathing in that I could actually breathe while running.  But it really hit me tonight as I began my run.  It was the fastest I've been able to run from the start and I just kept going.  It felt good.

I realized that a bit part of that probably has to do with the fact that I rollerbladed at least 3 times a week for 3 months so that definitely strengthened my legs a bit and I've been more consistent in my exercise.  But aside from that, and the point that I'm trying to make, is that I could breathe.  I could run better than I could before.

Because I trained at high altitude.

Being back on Next Wave has had it's ups and downs with delays, schedule changes, coming into a new role with new responsibilities and a new DTS beginning and everything in between.  It's been busy.  But there's a difference this time.

I know I can do it.  Whatever task or responsibility that is put on me, I trust in my abilities to accomplish those tasks.  That's a good feeling.  The things that were a challenge for me in the beginning, I can go about with confidence now that I can do it and I understand things and see things a lot better.  That's not to say there won't be things I don't know how to do and won't present me with new challenges.  But again, this time is different, my mindset is completely different.

And it's because I trained at high altitude.  (I don't mean that literally anymore, of course.  This boat has been and always will be a sea level.  That's just a fact of life.)  I've learned to make a bed well in a tight space.  I went about those challenges with barely being able to breathe trying to keep up and do what I was supposed to do.  Whether that be with staffing a new DTS (just 3 weeks after staffing another long DTS), coming to a brand new place with brand new people, living in such tight quarters, leading worship, leading outreach in Paris, leading out in other things, sailing and all that encompasses that and so much more.  It was hard.  I was tired.  I didn't often have time to catch my breath.

I can breathe now.

At first, I was a little worried about having that confidence because I thought it meant that I felt like I didn't need God to help me anymore and that He wasn't around as much because I could do it on my own.

But that's not true.  I felt His presence more today that I have in a very long time.  I know that He is with me in everything and He has prepared me (most times the hard way) for what He wants me to do and who He wants me to be.

Maybe that's where that confidence came from in the first place.

Probably.

It's the things that challenge your breathing that prepare you most for what's coming on the horizon.

I'm gonna keep running.

 

I Can Flush!

I had an amazing moment the other day.

That moment was when I was told that I no longer had to let it mellow when it was yellow.

That's right.  I can now flush the toilet every time.

It's the little things in life...