As, I sat here today in the sunshine, thinking about the death of my dad in January, the move across the state, changing Nursing jobs, my back injury, my new Nursing job and many other difficult things this last year, I thought about a friend. She has a saying, "life is rough, wear a helmet." Boy, she wasn't kidding. There is that old saying people use to get through bad times. "This too shall pass." I for one, don't want to use that when it comes to the good times. I don't want them to pass.
I'm currently waiting and hoping that these hard times shall soon pass. I am trying not to get attached to any of life, good or bad. The good times come and then they will go. The bad times come and they will go. I figure we need to allow them both to teach and polish us and try not to cling to one or the other. I'm still struggling with that, but it's starting to make sense.
Lately, in a attempt to get out of a negativity rut, I have been thinking of booking a trip with wild women expeditions on a kayaking trip in British Columbia. Water is powerful, spiritual and healing. I need challenging and healing right now. It got me thinking about life and how to survive.
I was 19 the first time I went white-water rafting, a guide gave us a lecture on the dangers of the river. If you fall out of the raft, do not try to stand up, do not try to grab onto a rock, do not try to fight the river. The river will win. If you fall out, relax, point your toes downstream, tuck your head to your chest, and let the river carry you. It will always take you to calm water. He gave us a paddle, told us to listen carefully to his instructions, then told us to remember that people do really die out here so be careful, and have fun. O'h and he had no helmets for us.
That first time, I had no idea what to expect. The middle fork of the Salmon River churns into Class III and IV rapids near Riggins, Idaho. I sat on the edge of the giant black raft, which felt like a big dopey inner-tube. The four of us steadily paddled into the rapids, but once in them, it felt like someone had turned on the washing machine.
The river bounced up, down, right and left, under water and high above it. I tried to paddle but wasn't sure if my oar was in the river or in the air, I was spinning around so quickly.
It was wickedly and wildly exciting. Until I fell out. My first instinct was to try to stand up and grab onto a rock. Bam, smack, ouch. Oh yeah, what was it he said about relaxing? I made a feeble attempt to point my toes and tuck my head, but I couldn't even find or feel my toes in that cold water.
My life jacket was too big and kept bobbing up to my ears. I had to use my hands to pull down on the shoulders. The paddle got swept away. It was hard to figure out when to take a breath. I couldn't see anything but water around and above me. I couldn't hold my breath any longer or swallow any more river. I ended up on a rock. Two guides came by in kayaks from another group and told me to get back in the river and let the water carry me downstream. I thought they were joking, but I had no other option. The kept urging me into the water. I didn't want to give up the security of the rock, but the river wasn't going to stop for me that day or any day.
Finally, he promised to follow me down in his kayak, so I said a prayer, slid off the rock, and floated away to calm water. I have never forgotten that day, how sometimes you have to give up the security of your rock for something better.
I once read an interview with Pastor Rick Warren, who wrote, The Purpose Driven Life. What he said reminded me of that river.
Life is a series of problems; either you are in one now, you're just coming out of one, or you're getting ready to go into another one. the reason for this is that God is more interested in your character than your comfort. God is more interested in making your life holy than he is in making your life happy. Geez, I must have a lot of character and holy life at the rate my life is going. Anyway, he talked about the lesson he learned in the greatest and toughest year of his life. That year he made millions on his book but his wife got cancer.
I used to think that life was hills and valleys--you go through a dark time, then you go to the mountaintop, back and forth. I don't believe that anymore. Rather than life being hills and valleys, I believe that it's kind of like two rails on a railroad track, and at all times you have something good and something bad in your life. No matter how good things are in your life, there is always something bad that needs to be worked on. And no matter how bad things are in your life, there is always something good you can thank God for.
It makes me think of the female NASCAR driver who said "Life is like a racetrack. It's the curves that make it worthwhile." Easy for her to say, she gets to wear a helmet to work. Regardless of this analogy, life is a wild, wonderful journey. Chaos will come, calm will follow, and then it will start up all over again. The secret is to savor the ride....
All of it.
Ride life like a river raft and let it carry you through the white water, the still water, and beyond. Float down like a leaf holding onto nothing, trusting the flow of the river.
Today, I am getting off my rock and I am booking my kayaking adventure.
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