Caught in the Waves

When I was little I had this book that was filled with these black, white and grey drawings. Along with the drawings were a few sentences on each page. They were intended as story prompts for children, with the intention of encouraging them to write.

I remember one with a little girl opening a box that had something inside of it that illuminated her and the room around her with a sentence on the adjoining page that read something like, "and so it happened that on her 12th birthday it had found her..."

There was one with a man holding a chair above his head about to stomp something under his carpet that was mysteriously traveling through the living room; and another with a woman lying in bed asleep with a book open next to her. Inside the book was what looked like a vine growing around her; and other drawings involving mysterious or exciting events.

But there was one that always interested me more than the rest.

It was a drawing of a little girl sitting inside a small wooden wagon with a sail attached to it. It was being pushed by a little boy. They were going fast, headed down a pier of some sort; but it was a pier which dead ended into an ocean.

I forget what the story prompt read, but the image of that boy and girl is so engraved in my mind. That one drew me in. It caught me; held me captive.

I've always longed for an adventure. I even remember praying for one as a little girl. I wanted to explore a new place, a new land. I wanted to meet all kinds of people, things, animals, and I wanted to meet a boy who would accompany me for the ride.

Looking at my life now, I feel as though so much of those longings have become a reality. I am that girl, sitting in the wagon with my fearless adventurer pushing me from behind. We are exploring a new land, meeting new people, seeing new things.

But now we've reached the end of the pier and we're in the water. We're floating along, secure in our boat and sail, but the waves are starting to pick up. We're both holding on and trying to keep steady, but I can't seem to get a good grip.

I'm scared, overwhelmed by the task in front of us.

I'm trying to grab an oar to help steer, but can't seem to gather enough strength to make an impact.

The waves all seem too big.

In this moment, my fellow adventurer is yelling to me, reassuring me, "it's all right," he says. "you're going to make it."

"We're going to figure this out."

Life seems to have surrounded me in this moment. Working as a first year teacher, motherhood, wife, friend. They are all things that I hold dear. They are my adventure. But adventure never comes without some rough currents.

I feel the pull of those currents right now.

As these waves push me around I am thankful for the voice of that boy and his presence in my boat. I am reminded that I am not caught in these waves alone; rather with the most incredible partner I could ever have imagined and with a power greater than those waves watching over me; holding me steady.

****After writing this I decided to try and find this book online. It's called The Mysteries of Harris Burdock and you can find it here.