Sailing Into Perspective

The sum total of my sailboating skills consists of digging my fingers into the safety rail and trying to avoid getting whacked upside the head by that big bar that lurks malevolently at the base of the main sail. No matter how many times I venture onto the deck of a sailboat, I always end up with various rope-related scrapes and boom-related bumps.

In my boating daydreams I imagine myself cutting quickly and quietly through the water, my hair tousled by the wind, a bold look in my eye. It never happens. I inevitably yank the wrong line, tack the wrong direction and scamper from one side of the boat to the other as though fending off a flock of invisible bats. One time I was almost boarded by a group of concerned Pentecostals who spied my frantic motions and conjectured that I needed to be healed of some dreadful malady.

It was thus a little unnerving to be out on the lake in a small sailboat a couple summers ago, slicing swiftly through the water accompanied by a guy who is a quadriplegic. As the wind picked up I began to question the wisdom of ever leaving the dock. I mean, what if an unexpected gust tipped the boat? Sure, Mike had a life vest on, and it was designed to keep his face out of the water. But there was something inherently ironic about the fact that the guy with virtually no limb function courageously piloted our tiny boat while I hung on for dear life.

Mike had been an adventurous and talented athlete before the snow skiing accident that put him in a wheelchair. And while the tragic fall crippled his body, it did not crush his spirit. He turned to sailing.

Aided by a small team and specially adapted gear, Mike maximized the limited mobility of his upper body and, by issuing commands to his crew, he piloted his boat to victory in several race events.

I was not in his boat as part of the race team. I was merely on a pleasure sail. In theory, I was available to implement simple commands that Mike issued as he read the conditions of the water.

“Wind coming, off starboard,” Mike noted.

“How can you see the wind?” I asked.

“Look at the water,” he replied. “See that rough-looking patch out there? That shows us wind.”

A moment later, the gust filled our sails.

Whatever I was supposed to do, I either did wrong or didn’t do at all and the craft leaned dramatically to the side. I think the hull of the boat still has gouge marks from my fingernails.

I made the mistake of uttering a complaint about how I had never managed to gain any proficiency in sailing, or in any sport whatsoever. Mike listened as I bemoaned my uncoordinated ineptness.

“You have no problems,” he replied.

Yikes.

“Do you have any idea how privileged you are just to be able to stand up?” he asked.

Wow. Perspective is a powerful thing.

It is so easy to complain about all kinds of stuff — our job, our income, the state legislature, the Chicago Bears. Try voicing those complaints to someone who lives in Bangladesh.

The Bible talks a lot about being thankful. I think that is because the act of giving thanks requires us to pause and catalogue those many blessings we simply take for granted.

Try starting your day by listing three things you are thankful for, and watch what happens to your perspective by the end of the week.

I can feel my legs. I am blessed.