Sail On

I have been going to church with mom and dad ever since Chad with broke up me. Not because I have a huge desire to go to church, although prayer has been amazing, but mainly because I don’t want to be alone and I know it makes them happy. It hasn’t been as bad it could have been. I haven’t left all angry and annoyed. Mostly, it is what I experience at nearly every church: I’ve heard this sermon a thousand times—several of which were better; Yeah, that’s how life works; Are you really talking to your church about how much money you are giving to build the new building—when they are the ones who are providing you the money to begin with; so forth and so on…
This last Sunday, I actually felt part of the sermon was for me, which was nice. It has stuck with me all week. I don’t think it has fully accomplished all it was meant to. The jist was this: The pastor was talking about the sailing log Christopher Columbus kept on his voyage to discover America. No matter how you feel about C.C. and his ‘discovery,’ it doesn’t change this story. Every day he wrote the day’s events in the journal. Some day about storms on the seas, or various challenges or successes faced by the crew. Most days, however, he wrote one line: Today we sailed on.
I guess that it seems strange that those four words would resonate with me and continue to clang around in my psyche. However, they sum it up for me, and, for the time being, being able to say, Today I sailed on, is a huge accomplishment—one that probably required a lot of effort and tears. Just getting through the day while trying to stay Brandon and do the things I have to do and the things I know I should do is taking every ounce of power I have. I can’t tell you how many times I throw up my hands and tell God, “I’ve done all I can do. There is nothing left to try, nothing left that I can change. I give it to you, please have mercy.” That is always a hard, humbling, and minimally freeing event. So, I am continuing to sail on. I don’t know what my America will look like. I don’t know what storms lay on the sea ahead. I don’t know how long the voyage will take. I don’t know how many fatalities and losses will transpire. Still, I sail on. Towards something. Towards my America. As much as I love and hate it, I am in His hands, and my sails are directed by his breath. So, for now, I simply sail on.