Dory has it right!

I am much more like Nemo’s dad than I am like Dory.  I have missions and I pursue them passionately and to the point where I have tunnel vision.   It is a character asset of mine.  It is a character defect of mine.

Dory says, in Finding Nemo, “just keep swimming, just keep swimming, swimming, swimming.”   Easy for a fish to say.   I’m not that good a swimmer and sometimes I feel I am drowning.  Now is one of those times in my life.   Work is hectic and there is much change, making formerly simple tasks more complicated and time-consuming.   My sweet sister passed away only six weeks ago.   I am moving my boys, years post-divorce, from our home (complete with barn and shop) to a new, cleaner, fresher, smaller home.   The usual things of life have continued – my sons’ debate, soccer, speech, school and usual lives have not slowed.   My love relationship requires attention and care.  My friendships are a source of blessings and laughter.  As I move, I grieve the loss of my marriage.  The efforts put forth over the years, the investments in  material things to stay happy, all seem futile now and leave me only with sad memories, baggage and work.    I worry about my kids and their sadness and their anxieties as we move.  There are papers to sign, utilities to transfer, decision after decision to make.  There is much good here too – the help of my sweetheart warms me, my brother’s trailer makes me smile as it bounces over ruts in the road, the friends who bring me dinner nourish more than my body.   

“God Calling” tells me today that “It is to the drowning man the Rescuer comes.”  It points out the disciples thought Jesus may have forgotten them in his sleep.  “Master, Master we are going to drown!”   Luke 8:24.   (As a side note, this makes me giggle today.   I may have to say it over and over today.  “Master, Master, I am going to drown!”  It certainly feels that way!)   It points out that Jesus could have calmed the very first waves, but “It is a part of My method to wait till the storm is at its full violence.”  So God has a little drama-queen in Him?  He recognizes that we humans sometimes only learn from the extreme and dire.  The meditation bids me to “go forward unafraid” after ridding myself of the fear:

“In the spiritual (as in the material) world there is no empty space, and as self and fears and worries depart out of your lives, it follows that the things of the Spirit, that you crave so, rush in to take their places.”

This resonates.   There is no room in my mind and heart for joy and life and love if my head and heart are full of worry, and fear, and regret.  And sadness.   I become like Nemo’s dad – overwhelmed, overtaxed, worried, hopeless and despondent.  Everything seems so big, even the next step.   I paralyze myself.

Notice that.

Circumstances didn’t paralyze me.   Reality didn’t paralyze me.   My thoughts and my fears paralyze me.   I paralyze myself.

I render myself less useful.   At a time when I need every facet of my being at full capacity, I paralyze myself.

The life-taker has to love that.  When I am paralyzed and struggling to do the next thing – there is little room for God and His saving hand.  No room for joy, and confidence and strength.

I don’t have to deny myself the feelings of regret, sadness and being overwhelmed.   That would be silly because those feelings are present and real.  I can’t fight them off entirely.  But I can let them come and then, let them go.   I don’t have to stay there treading water and going nowhere.   I don’t have to let all my energy (or even a substantial part of my energy) be lost to fear and tiredness.

I can say to myself, “Reach for the hand of the Rescuer. Tell Him, “Hey, I’m drowning here!”  Don’t choose to be overwhelmed because you think that’s the only way life has meaning.  Don’t paralyze yourself with negative emotions.   Remind yourself of silly Dory and keep swimming.  

​Updated May 2019.