Wave Shaped, Rescue Ready

I had been dropped.  Somehow my feet left the floor of the sight-seeing helicopter and I was falling.  Even still, I'm still not completely sure if I was pushed or if I jumped; it doesn't matter anymore.  It was a free-fall with no time to tuck and curl and certainly no parachute.  I hit the water, flat on my face, the air sucked from my lungs, the cold night closed around me, the cold water rushed every pore.

When daylight broke, I was still twisting in a somersault, trying to make heads or tails of where I was.  Was that ocean bottom or sky?  It all looked the same, the pressure was intense, the saltwater stung every gaping wound.

It took nearly a year just to get my head above water.  The cold nights fall fast and drag on forever, the days are hot and long.  Sunsets and sunrises are the hope and beauty my tired body and mind crave as I tread the deep water.  My swimming skills lack.  I should have spent more time in the pool, I think.

Then, late last year I saw the beach.  My soul was revived.  I pumped my tired arms and legs to swim faster.  In the distance I saw white sand, warmth, rest... I thought I felt my toes touch the bottom of the ocean.

The whipping, bitter, wind picked up again early this year.  The waves feel taller than ever as they crash over my head, the current is dragging me back to sea.  The vision of the beach is a faded memory, replaced by the reality of the immensity of this ocean.  I relaxed a little lower in the water.  I'm tired of the fight.  It's lonely.  It's painful.  It's cold and desperately dark.  The days turn to weeks, then months, and now, three years.  Still, somehow, I don't drown.

I'm starting to sense strength in my body like I've never known.  These waves are shaping it, toning me. I realized this month that the sunrises have lasted a little longer, and the sunsets have seemed a little warmer.  This week I caught a glimpse of what I couldn't see before. What I once thought was a hallucination is actually a lifeboat, full of friendly faces.  It is now clear to me, some of the tugging I feel is a thick rope fastened securely around me.  Together they are paddling slowly to shore, pulling me with them, screaming encouragement into the wind, whispering love to me in the cold, still, darkness. I have not been alone in this, not for a day.

It is becoming apparent to me:  I am a recruit.  I am part of a team.  I was dropped or pushed or allowed to fall, as a part of the program. All of this training has been disciplining and shaping my body, mind, emotions, will and spirit- for a purpose.

We will get to the beach.  My feet will feel the warmth of the white sand.  I will sit, briefly and soak up the sun. I will laugh and play and rest... I hope to spend a day or two there, but the beach isn't where I'm from, nor is it where I want to live.

One day, very soon, I will have a boat of my own.  It will come with a rope and I will have the strength, will-power, understanding, wisdom, insight and experience to help paddle another fallen swimmer to shore.

1 Peter 1:6-9

Google Image- Artist Unknown