Charting an Adventure with Inexperienced Hands

Sailing - the most wonderful thought: the wind blowing through your hair as you stand at the helm, the sound of the boat as it cuts through the water, the gentle swell lifting and dropping beneath your feet as the sun lowers in the sky, golden and glowing warm about your sun-kissed face.

Such an ideal. Yet the ideal and the reality - are often very different things.

Sailing with kids (four of them under six), with unpredictable weather, unsteady seas, and limited sailing skills on a boat that is feeling its age demonstrates this well!

That’s us, that’s what we did, indeed what we do. Some thought (and still do) that we were mad; others thought we were downright dangerous and risky. Though some wished they too would take on those things that others just talk about. Who would catch a vision of what something could be and pursue it? And pursue it because of the belief that somewhere out there, in the frantic, amidst the edginess, and slight chaos, there were irreplaceable moments of bliss to be found.

We were not always good at checking the weather before we embarked on our sailing adventures, an admission that often left poor parents alarmed when they knew we were on the ocean, but we were impulsive, so off we would go.

Fitting even the tiniest with a life jacket, wedged precariously in a car seat balanced on the huge mound of supplies needed for an adventure on the high seas. We would chug out to ‘Penny Blue,’ our small 26ft trusty ship, moored slightly further from the shore than we would have liked, holding on to those who were determined to lean out over the side to run their hands in the chilled water,. Reassuring those wide-eyed with fear and concern sitting quietly like little ducks in a row along each narrow, uncomfortable plank, we would slowly make our way to our destination.

There was the transfer, from dinghy to boat. Each boat rocked in different directions, seemingly rising and falling with each ripple and gust. We awkwardly passed each child from one location to the other, barking commands for complete obedience at such an unpredictable time, tensely negotiating ropes and wires in the most awkward of places, arriving disheveled and disorderly and never without one child or another being terrified or distraught. That was all before we even began the task of setting sail. But with a firm vision for what lay ahead, we made it happen.

Hatches opened, covers off, sails set, casting off from the mooring we went. At times, I would have been more than content to bob around on the mooring and pretend we were out on the open seas. The entirety of it scared me, I had no skill, I didn’t understand wind direction and sails, I was constantly confused.

Though I knew my task- the children. And with a slight nervous swirl in my stomach, I would watch as they clambered around the boat, the smallest tied on with a rope, the eldest keen to help a focused father, who might have needed help sometimes, but certainly not from a 6-year-old.

When things got tense and the sea got rough, we were sent below deck, precariously stumbling down the vertical steps below deck. Being squashed down there with 4 children waddling around in life jackets was no fun as the boat lurched from side to side. Activity books and pens rolling around the floor, the smallest child attempting to stand as the boat rocked and rolled, bumped heads, tears, wanting to be up with daddy, all while I myself tried to keep my eyes on the horizon through the small porthole window to prevent seasickness. Dimly lit adventures.

Returning exhausted, with soggy wet sandy clothes, half-eaten lunches squashed and smelly, I’d wondered whether the whole thing was worth it. Yet each contented little face and the simple chatter of the adventures we had had told me it was indeed.

No one really remembered the crazy moments when we wondered whether we would make it back to land in one piece, the ones where my husband and I exchanged looks where no words were needed, but rather prayers to God and militant decisions! If they were recalled, it would be to laugh at them.

The moments that were remembered were the most beautiful ones and they always invited us to more. Jumping into crystal-clear water, fishing for mackerel off the bow, drinking wine in tacky plastic glasses as the sun went down.

Those moments did come, but what made them so special, so memorable, so significant was not the moment itself, but the journey to them, the fight, the adventure, the obstacles that had stood in the way of what had to be conquered. Appreciated more because of the times that it didn’t happen, times we didn’t make it, when we sailed nights discouraged and disappointed. When the temptation to give up loomed high and the courage to hold on to the vision and venture out again another day compelled us to set sail yet again.

So like life.

There have been moments there too, where the temptation to step back from the pursuit of dreams, from life’s vision and calling have been great.

To take the boat out of the water because the sea is too rough, the weather too unpredictable, and the effort too great. When we have been battered by the waves, knocked about, bruised, and exhausted. But something of that vision of life’s beautiful sunsets, picture-perfect moments, of voyage and adventure is too compelling.

The memory of moments where vision was seen, dreams accomplished, storms weathered, and destinations arrived at, are what calls me to set sail on our fragile boat on the water again - still with inexperience, yet each time with a little more. Still with a nervousness in my stomach and apprehension in my mind, yet with hope to once again see the beauty and the glory of all that life brings. After each journey, I return more weathered, more wise, and more convinced that if you stay on the shore, then you will always miss out.

What is my own "sailing adventure" in life? What dreams or goals am I pursuing despite the challenges and uncertainties that come with them?

Do I tend to embrace challenges and uncertainty, or do I often shy away from them? How does my approach to challenges impact my ability to achieve my goals and create memorable moments in life? Do I underestimate myself?

What is my "vision" in life? What do I aspire to achieve or experience that makes me willing to weather the storms and obstacles along the way?

What moments in my life have been most meaningful and memorable? How did the journey and the obstacles faced contribute to the significance of those moments?

Have I ever considered giving up on a dream or goal due to difficulties or setbacks? What compelled me to keep going or, conversely, what held me back?

Am I willing to venture out of my comfort zone, even when it's intimidating or I lack experience? How might embracing discomfort and uncertainty lead to personal growth and fulfilling experiences?

Do I appreciate the beauty in both the journey and the destination of my endeavors? How can I cultivate a greater sense of gratitude for the process and the moments along the way?

What inspires me to continue pursuing my dreams and goals, even when the going gets tough? How can I draw on this inspiration during challenging times?

In what ways can I become more resilient and better equipped to handle life's uncertainties and obstacles? What strategies or support systems might help me overcome challenges more effectively?

How can I apply the lessons learned from the sailing adventure described in the narrative to my own life journey? What steps can I take to embrace the adventure, even when it feels daunting or uncertain?