I’m sitting here on the ferry between Edmonds and Kingston, on my way to see my parents and to take them to the doctor, the post office, grocery store, etc. It’s a blustery day, sun breaking through the clouds, the sea choppy, the ferry pitching back and forth.
I’m noticing. Attentive. Smelling the roses, so to speak.
Yes, I’m often stressed and freaked out about all the changes, all the transition. The deep aging of my parents. The start of a new career. How the heck am I going to build a business, be successful, thrive, survive financially? What kind of income can I realistically expect over the next month, quarter, year?
These questions gnaw at me, for sure. But I could be sitting in a cubicle in an office building, staring at the computer, working my fingers toward permanent nerve damage. Or sitting in meeting after meeting, discussing subject matter I couldn’t possibly care less about. Watching my life slip further by. Slipping, falling, nosediving deeper into perpetual burnout, wondering why I had made choices to live this way. All in the name of economic “security”, which for me at least, became a code word for fear.
It has been a year since I injured my hand. I had no choice but to leave the safe, secure, yet suffocating occupation behind.
Instead, I sit here on the ferry. Noticing. Paying attention to life. The boat is rocking to and fro. I go to serve my parents today. I have the freedom now to bless and serve them. I have the freedom to bless and serve my wife, Merrilyn, who is going through a difficult time at work right now, just by being home for her and holding down the fort.
I am alive today, although I could use a little coffee right now.
Stress? Fear? Yes. I wonder how I’m going to make a living, but I now get to do something I love, something I have passion for. My success depends on a lot of hard work and a lot of help from above.
Yeah, I’m freaking out a little from time to time. But there is something else that I haven’t felt in a long time. I now have hope.
Thank you Lord for the wake-up call.