souldare

Keep your eyes open for God, watch for his works;
    be alert for signs of his presence. (Psalm 105:4 The Message)

Linking today with Random Journal Dayers and Dawn

Barnacles start out as very tiny creatures that cling to any solid thing in the water. Barnacles are not a boater’s friend. I knew this, but it wasn’t stressing me out, until we got to the car wash and Les had to climb under the trailer and scrape, the now noticeable baby barnacles. He was quite upset about them, and that was upsetting me.

The work of boating can sometimes overshadow the joys. Getting the boat back on the trailer can be daunting at times, and this time was no exception. We were at an unfamiliar boat ramp, which was steeper than any other ramp we’ve used before. We were able to “walk” the boat onto the trailer with ropes, but it wasn’t quite far enough forward to keep the back from floating and getting off center on the trailer. My job is to center the back of the boat, while Les pulls the trailer out with the truck. I was on the dock trying to accomplish this often finnicky feat.

Not a great idea. Finally, we figured out that I should get on the boat, and after a few more tries, we were satisfied enough to pull the boat out. Both of us were relieved, but frazzled. Little barnacles of frustration were barely noticeable.

By the time, we got to the car wash, my little barnacles were biting seriously into my ability to respond rationally to any stress that occured. While Les was scraping the barnacles off the boat, I was coming up with reasons to go home. He quietly listened to my remonstrations. We went back to the marina, so he could shower, and I apologized for throwing around extreme statements, like we should just go home and forget about this whole idea. He calmly started asking me questions: Did we break anything? Did we lose anything?

No, I admitted. So we started down the road, and drove into the new year. We stopped a few hours short of our destination, and a few minutes before midnight climbed into our bed, wishing each other a happy new year.

In the morning, I was better, but something like burgeoning barnacles had attached to my inner peace. I felt bad that I had refused to allow Les to be stressed. I didn’t want him to worry about barnacles on the boat. I thought if he was frustrated, and we had to do this all over again in a couple weeks or at the end of the month, he might NEVER want to live on our boat again.

He assured me that was not the case, and that if we did do this again, we could get the boat bottom-painted, which would solve our barnacle conundrum.

But like a tenacious barnacle, I wouldn’t let it go, and on New Year’s morning, when we should have been rejoicing in our fresh adventure, I was beating myself up for my rash statements the day before. So I apologized, and my wise husband replied: “There’s nothing to forgive.” Which caused some salty water to well up in my eyes again.

It’s that time of year, when we begin again. We are starting our new year, with a fresh perspective.

Here in sunny, warm Florida, the barnacles are attaching themselves to our boat, as I type this. And I’m sure both the boat and my heart will have to be examined again before the month is over.

In the meantime, I am going to embrace the gift of this month, enjoy being with my husband and explore this part of God’s world with open eyes and an open heart.

Happy Begin Agains!

Here’s some photos of our new place:

There is a bike path and walkway over to Honeymoon Island State Park. (Two miles one way from the marina) Also within walking distance is a grocery store, a roadside park, thrift stores and another bike path that connects Dunedin with Clearwater and other towns along the coast. (About a 40 mile stretch of bikeways)

Fog accompanied me during my morning explorations: