Feeling Small

The movie Jaws had just been released. That summer as we sunbathed at the beach, my cousin and I shared horror stories from a book about great white sharks. The book and the film left me shaking with fear. The movie hit close to home. Jaws was filmed where I had been swimming all my life. We watched film crews making the film. We read in local newspapers about the enormous mechanized rubber shark who starred in the realistic chomping scenes. Watching the contraption was terrifying when coupled with the movie’s soundtrack. I was so fear struck when I left the theater that I had to roll up the windows of the car. I’m not kidding. Those familiar waters could never be the same for me.

Our family bought a used sailfish early that year and we worked all winter refinishing it: patching the wood, sanding the teak, painting, sealing, fixing the rigging. A sailfish is more like a surfboard than a skiff. It doesn’t have a cockpit. So you sit on the deck. We couldn’t wait to get to the shore. Sailing proved to be more fun than we had dreamed it could be. However, after watching Jaws I quit dangling my feet in the water when out on our sailfish. It can get uncomfortable if you never put your legs in the water, but I would rather get a sore back than risk losing a foot or a leg to a hungry shark.

In spite of my new fear, those were my days of pure freedom, loving life and sailing through everything. I treasured the feeling of the wind blowing on my face as we sailed, two at a time on the little sailfish. Some of my sailing partners took delight in deliberately pulling the sail in too tightly causing the boat to capsize. Both sailors would have to swim around the boat to stand on the keel and use all their body weight to right the old boat. After watching Jaws, I was reluctant to sail with a partner who enjoyed going for a dunk. I much preferred the feelings and sounds of speed as the boat skimmed across the water’s surface. Somehow the sensations of speed were artificially magnified by sitting so close to the waves on that sailfish.

One beautiful summer day, my cousin and I took off from the beach on the sailfish. The waves sprayed us as we tacked through them to catch the wind. I remember noticing how much fun it was to recognize the places in the distance along the coast where we had played over the years. Then we focused our attention on the water around us, catching the wind to gain speed. Suddenly we realized we had lost our sense of direction. The buildings that had looked like Monopoly structures moments ago had totally vanished. The only thing we could see was waves. My heart pounded. We were not safe. As the late afternoon clouds collected in the graying sky, I began to panic.

I think we understood the perspectives of the tiny people in Honey I Shrunk the Kids. Not only did we feel small in the expanse of ocean, but if we headed in the wrong direction, we could easily be lost at sea. We could be shark fodder. I don't know how, but we miraculously made our way back to shore.

Settling my spirit now so I can feel small in God’s big hands is a much sweeter experience than worrying about sharks and feeling lost at sea. Now I am directed by a holy wind, fully enjoying life’s ocean sprays. Prayer brings refreshing breezes and I come to know my Sailing Partner is in total control whether or not sharks surround me.

A Tribute to May

It's Thanksgiving. I'm so thankful I could burst. Truly. Yet, sometimes I get a crazy thought that I'd be better off without a dog. Then I could finally manage to keep a beautifully clean house. Why do I put up with dog drool, barking, funny smells, nose marks on windows, embarrassing wild behavior and dog hair everywhere? It's simple. I enjoy being loved unconditionally.

My faithful, not-too-bright, pure-hearted, thick-headed, affectionate, resolutely guarding canine, KC the collie, wants to be with me. Although I get covered in hair, I love coming home and having my happily wagging dog rub all over my legs. He's telling me he missed me and he’s glad I’m home again. This behavior is so cat-like that it earned him the nickname “Kitty.”

Not only that, but I love having someone follow me from room to room protecting me from the “dangers” in the world like squirrels and vacuum cleaners. Dogs also remind me of the sweetest things in life like playtime, cuddling and expressing affection.

I just finished reading Marley and Me by John Grogan. I laughed out loud a lot. Yes, I cried too. As I read I fondly relived my memories of May, our family’s dearly loved golden retriever. She lives on in our hearts. She taught us just as Marley taught the Grogans. She became part of us; she endeared her way into our lives, smiling all the while. I still miss her. Just touching her ear leather was therapeutic. I think she knew that. In tribute to that precious pet who became more like a family member, I submit John Gogan’s words of wisdom about dogs:

“What I really wanted to say was how this animal had touched our souls and taught us some of the most important lessons of our lives. 'A person can learn a lot from a dog, even a loopy one like ours,' I wrote. 'Marley taught me about living each day with unbridled exuberance and joy, about seizing the moment and following your heart. He taught me to appreciate the simple things — a walk in the woods, a fresh snowfall, a nap in a shaft of winter sunlight. And as he grew old and achy, he taught me about optimism in the face of adversity. Mostly, he taught me about friendship and selflessness and, above all else, unwavering loyalty.'

It was an amazing concept that I was only now, in the wake of his death, fully absorbing: Marley as mentor. As teacher and role model. Was it possible for a dog — any dog, but especially a nutty, wildly uncontrollable one like ours — to point humans to the things that really mattered in life? I believed it was. Loyalty. Courage. Devotion. Simplicity. Joy. And the things that did not matter too. A dog has no use for fancy cars or big homes or designer clothes. Status symbols mean nothing to him. A water logged stick will do just fine. A dog judges others not by their color or creed or class but by who they are inside. A dog doesn’t care if you are rich or poor, educated or illiterate, clever or dull. Give him your heart and he will give you his.” (Marley & Me, pp.279-280)