An unexpected post.
Caution: theology ahead.
I was finally kayaking again. With the truck back, and the weather cooperating, I was back on the water, and it felt great. I went to a lake that is relatively new to me. It’s pretty big, with plenty to explore, and tons of great flora and fauna. My trip took an oddly philosophical turn.
I was in the middle of the lake, paddling along, and I was suddenly struck with emotion. I felt so full of sorrow, and unexpectedly, I found myself asking God for help. Help for everything; to be unafraid, to move on, to be the person I want to be, to trust again.
I poured out my fears to Him. I asked for forgiveness for the first time in my life. Forgiveness for being such a fool, forgiveness for all the mistakes I’ve made, for not fulfilling my potential. I was paddling, and crying, and praying. Frankly, activities I rarely combine. Even though most of what I was feeling was remorse and sadness, there was hope too. I could feel it.
What is odd, is that I don’t even believe in divine intervention, but I couldn’t help feeling very close to Him, closer to God than I ever have in church. At the very least, I felt like someone was listening.
Of course, I don’t know why this happened. Maybe because kayaking has always been a bit of a spiritual activity for me. One with nature and all that. But I also think that kayaking and I have so many good memories. And when I was out on the water, I could feel bitterness mixed with those good memories, and that realization overwhelmed me with sadness. I was (and am) so afraid that the bitter feeling would linger, that it led me ask for help.
Now that I write it down, it makes a lot of sense. I don’t want to lose the things that make me, me. And I won’t.
I continued to paddle on blindly and when I finally stopped, breathing hard from exertion, I looked up. There, where the water met land, stood a deer and her twin fawns drinking from the lake. I stopped and watched them intently for long minutes, lost in Gods gifts. I was so thankful to be alive in that moment, observing these creatures who unbeknownst to them, were giving me such great comfort.
I will still feel the pang of what might have been, but I think, thanks to this trip, I’ve turned a corner of sorts. My heart feels lighter.
I’m ready for more kayaking.
I was finally kayaking again. With the truck back, and the weather cooperating, I was back on the water, and it felt great. I went to a lake that is relatively new to me. It’s pretty big, with plenty to explore, and tons of great flora and fauna. My trip took an oddly philosophical turn.
I was in the middle of the lake, paddling along, and I was suddenly struck with emotion. I felt so full of sorrow, and unexpectedly, I found myself asking God for help. Help for everything; to be unafraid, to move on, to be the person I want to be, to trust again.
I poured out my fears to Him. I asked for forgiveness for the first time in my life. Forgiveness for being such a fool, forgiveness for all the mistakes I’ve made, for not fulfilling my potential. I was paddling, and crying, and praying. Frankly, activities I rarely combine. Even though most of what I was feeling was remorse and sadness, there was hope too. I could feel it.
What is odd, is that I don’t even believe in divine intervention, but I couldn’t help feeling very close to Him, closer to God than I ever have in church. At the very least, I felt like someone was listening.
Of course, I don’t know why this happened. Maybe because kayaking has always been a bit of a spiritual activity for me. One with nature and all that. But I also think that kayaking and I have so many good memories. And when I was out on the water, I could feel bitterness mixed with those good memories, and that realization overwhelmed me with sadness. I was (and am) so afraid that the bitter feeling would linger, that it led me ask for help.
Now that I write it down, it makes a lot of sense. I don’t want to lose the things that make me, me. And I won’t.
I continued to paddle on blindly and when I finally stopped, breathing hard from exertion, I looked up. There, where the water met land, stood a deer and her twin fawns drinking from the lake. I stopped and watched them intently for long minutes, lost in Gods gifts. I was so thankful to be alive in that moment, observing these creatures who unbeknownst to them, were giving me such great comfort.
I will still feel the pang of what might have been, but I think, thanks to this trip, I’ve turned a corner of sorts. My heart feels lighter.
I’m ready for more kayaking.
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