Strawberry Island

Discouraged. 

I've felt discouraged before, but until yesterday, I had never experienced discouragement in its purest form. 

Chip was post-call yesterday, the kids were in child care, and I, having not started work yet, was at home.  We wanted to take "advantage" of being child-free, so Chip and I decided to have one last hurrah before I start work. 

We loaded up the kayaks and headed down to the marina with the intentions of paddling over to Strawberry Island.  In my mind I pictured our kayaking adventure to be quite leisurely, and after disembarking, we'd spend a nice quiet afternoon basking in the sun. 

After we arrived at the marina it dawned on us what an incredibly windy day it was.  The water was very choppy, choppier than anything I'd ever kayaked in.  I kept telling Chip, "I trust you!  I just don't know if this is a good idea being that it is so windy."  I followed that up with a silent prayer, "Lord, you know we are crazy.  Please keep us safe."

Talk about fast water!  Once we entered the current, we were quickly carried downstream, and we almost missed our island target.  I admit I did stop to answer my cell phone out in the middle of the water (I thought it was the child care center calling).  It was my mom [Hey, Mama!].  Although it was very nice to hear her voice, I became quite discouraged as to how far I had floated downstream while on the phone.  I panicked, redirected myself, and paddled like crazy against the current.

I thought it was hard getting to the island, and I didn't know how in the world we were going to paddle upstream against the current and against the near-gale winds.  I tried not to think about it, and we spent the next couple of hours fishing and relaxing.

While relaxing on the beach, I kept staring at the ominous place at which I knew we had to paddle back toward.  It didn't look that far, but I knew it would take a miracle to get us back there.  I took a picture of the marina; you can barely make it out in this photo, but it is located right in front of that distant building. 

Because it was the kids' first day in child care, I was especially anxious to pick them up on time.  I didn't know how long it would take us to get back to the Jeep, but I allowed us at least an hour.  We packed up and left the island at 3:10. 

At first things went really well.  "Hey, this current isn't so bad," I thought.  I kept looking to the right and watching all the buildings I was passing so that I could keep track of my progress. 

Then I saw it.  I called it the Americana building because it was painted red, white, and blue.  For the life of me, I could not get past that American building.  Chip noticed that I was struggling, so he shouted, "Head toward that green buoy!"  I took heed and noticed that it did get easier to paddle now that I had redirected myself. 

The green buoy got closer and closer and closer and then I finally reached it.  But to my dismay, the stinking Americana building was STILL in the same spot.  In other words, I was making progress, just not in the direction in which I needed to be making progress.  I looked to my right (the direction of the marina), and I noticed that the marina was even further away.

We finally reached a stone wall and headed our kayaks toward the marina.  I was thankful that I didn't have to look at that Americana building anymore. 

Wow.  I had no idea how difficult going against the current and the wind would be.  There were literally times when I was paddling but going NOWHERE. 

Enter discouragement. 

I cannot tell you how many times I looked at that stone wall to my left and screamed to Chip, "I'm gonna climb up that wall!  This is not fun!"  He just laughed and came paddling by me at like 100 mph (or would it be knots per hour?)  with a silly grin on his face.  Stinker.

Suffice it to say that we did make it back to the Jeep.  We arrived at 3:45.  It only took 35 minutes to get back.  Incredible.  Thank you, Lord. 

Strawberry Island.  I went.  I saw.  I won't be back.