I booked the day away months ago, knowing this last sprint to the finish would be challenging, and if I didn’t book in space to breathe I just wouldn’t. I went to the beach. Salt water is always the remedy. I sat down on the damp sand, and tears filled my eyes so quickly I actually gasped. What was that about? My heart longed for peace, and in the crashing waves and salty breezes I knew this was exactly what I needed. Something about life on this ship is so intense; and lately all the intensity of it seems magnified… I realized the noise of rights and wrongs and shoulds and shouldn’ts had tangled and wrapped themselves so tightly I could hardly even take a deep breath.
I’m doing this all wrong. I should be at that event today. I’m so selfish. I can’t do anything right. I’m such a terrible friend. Why can’t I just suck it up and be more generous? Giving? Selfless? I shouldn’t be withdrawing from people, I should be diving deeper into relationship. I can’t seem to do anything right for that one person. I bet she can’t wait to be rid of me. I’m not feeling enough. I should be desperately sad about leaving this place, what kind of callused, heartless robot am I? I must be too controlling about that one project. I’m probably being too hands-off, they’ll accuse me of ‘checking out’. Where is the line between the two? I can’t seem to find it. I can’t make anyone happy. I’m doing this all wrong. This weekend is supposed to be a time of refreshing, why can’t I just forget it all and relax? Trust? Find the joy? What time is it? Is it time for lunch? What if I don’t want lunch? What if she wants lunch? Will lunch now be the wrong choice? What if I’m waiting too long? Argh, this isn’t what this weekend is supposed to be like…
And that was just the first few minutes.
Once I calmed the crazy and focused on the moment, the breath filling my lungs, the heartbeat that continues on regardless of the crazy in my head thanks to the spark of the divine within, the crashing waves mimicking the pulsing hum of life flowing through my veins, I could hear it.
That still small voice that was shrouded in the cacophonous noise of doubts and fears and worries and anxieties of the past and the future and everything in between...
What if there is no right or wrong? What if you’re just doing it? You’re okay. And I love you.
I’m doing life. Work. Transition. I am okay.
It doesn’t look like what the books told me it would look like. Except that one that said expect the unexpected. I’m slowly unplugging from this place, from these people. It’s not right or wrong… it’s how I’m doing it. Because if I pull out all the plugs at one time on that day I leave? I won’t survive it. My heart can’t withstand that kind of an assault. So it’s little by little. Some friendships will last through it. Some won’t. I’m forever grateful for the season of life I’ve been privileged to carry out in this place and the people who made it what it was. And just because a friendship or a connection only lasts a season it doesn’t negate the beauty and the richness and the value of the investment – they don’t have to be forever to be successful. They are. And I’m loved, regardless.
The work I’ve been called to do in this season, I’m closing out and handing over. I’m doing the best I can to hand it over well; thoroughly, completely, to give every opportunity possible to set up the future stewards for success. Instead of analyzing every response, every reaction, every facial expression as a verdict on me somehow simultaneously being too controlling and too hands off, that I’m doing it all wrong… I’m doing it. And I am loved.
Oh, the relief. The freedom to breathe again and not wonder if it was right or wrong or good or bad. Since when did I care so much about others’ verdicts? There’s really only one that matters. You’re okay. What I needed to hear. What we all need to hear sometimes.
May the remainder of this season at sea be one of gratitude, of love, of expansive light and life and friendship and humanity and healing and hope. May it not be wrong or right or good or bad… may it just be what it is.
You’re okay. And I love you.