Two weeks ago today I spent the afternoon snorkeling. I was accompanied by two turtles, a huge sting ray and a small spotted eagle ray as well as schools of blue, yellow, shiny white and tiger striped friends. One week ago today I spent the day riding in the passenger seat of a large rental truck feeling like a turtle knowing all my earthly possessions were riding along with me and Karl on a 2200 mile trek from Florida to Cheyenne. Today, those possessions are safely tucked in a storage unit and I’m sitting in our camp trailer just outside of the city, watching as Wyoming April showers fall. Keep in mind that here in April nearly all showers happen at a temperature that obligates them to be white and wet.
What a difference fourteen days make!
I grew up a little afraid of water. I’m not a good swimmer, but I learned on our first trip to the Caribbean that if I had a little faith and stepped out of the boat, I was actually quite adept at floating. It was a surprise. Then I opened my eyes and discovered an incredible world below the surface. From then on, snorkeling became nearly an act of prayer for me – being so excited and thankful and awed to share in the wonder of God’s creation. When our love for the Caribbean, and especially St. Croix, grew – well God opened doors and led us to buying our Pirate’s Perch so that we could eventually live there pretty much full time.
In February of this year something happened. I didn’t hear God speak to me and neither did Karl, but we became convinced that our time in St. Croix was finished. Our prayers and feelings were reinforced when we accepted an offer on our house within a week of putting it on the market and all our moving plans fell into place quite effortlessly. Plans came smoothly, but in other ways this move hasn’t been easy. I love St. Croix and I wasn’t sure I wanted to leave. I’ve cried a lot. Even so, from the moment Karl and I began talking about moving, I’ve sensed a nudge. Maybe it would be more accurate to term it an invitation. An invitation that felt like a call to do something akin to stepping out of the boat. I resisted that invitation for a while, fought against it. I found comfort and joy in snorkeling in the days before we left the island. At some point, bobbing on the top of the warm sea, watching the pageant of coral and fish in that world that can only be seen when I leave the comfort of solid ground and submerge myself, peace descended. It took courage for me to snorkel that very first time, but my faith was rewarded with a whole new world. Now, I’m being asked to do it again, and despite my fear, I’ve decided to trust the God who has always been faithful. I’m reaching for God’s hand and stepping out onto a new adventure.
