Interruptions
- Mike Rydman
- Aug 30, 2007
Interruptions
The story goes like this:
My son, Steve and I planned to spend the day together kayaking Chuckanut Bay in Bellingham. Steve lives and works in Bellingham, and we don't get to see him often. In fact, since he rarely calls his mother, his sister and I really do miss him.
Any chance to hang out with Steve is a joy, and I will willingly drop anything I'm doing to take advantage of opportunities to be with him.
The day yesterday was perfect, and Steve and I were paddling on the water by 10:30 in the morning. It was "slack tide," meaning the low tide was at its lowest and with no current or tide to influence our kayaks our paddling was easy if not effortless.
Steve and I paddled around Chuckanut Island in the middle of the bay, and then landed our boats on a nice beach on the way back. We pulled our lunches and beach chairs out of the boats, and settled in for a long conversation - the kind of conversations Dads always look forward to having with their sons. Shirts off; feet up, and the sun beginning to blaze on the both of us.
We had just finished eating, and were in the middle of talking about something when we noticed a single kayaker move past us. We thought little of it; except that we noticed the killer "wave ski" kayak the guy was paddling. A wave ski is a sit-on-top kayak used exclusively for racing. It requires a great deal of skill. We also noticed that the guy wasn't wearing a PFD (a "life jacket".) Unusual.
Steve and I resumed our conversation, but as soon as the kayaker had gone out of our immediate view we heard him yelling. We jumped out of our chairs and onto some nearby rocks to see what was up. The kayaker had fallen off of his boat, was hanging on to his kayak from underneath, and was also trying to hang on to his expensive paddle and a water bottle.
I threw him a rope from shore, but he didn't have any free hands to grab it. I then jumped in my own kayak, paddled out to him, grabbed his kayak, dragged it to Steve on shore, then paddled out to again throw the guy the rope and tow him in.
(I know the rescue order here seems askew, but you had to be there.)
He thanked us for the save, rested up for a bit with us, then he asked if we could paddle back with him to the put-in spot a half a mile away. We agreed, and set out. We were no more than a couple of minutes into the paddle back when he starts shouting out about how much pain he is in, and how he can't make it any farther. Right afterward, he fell off his kayak again. Steve and I towed him again to shore, and set him up on some rocks above the waterline. At this point, the tide was rising and we were in a full out rescue situation.
I told Steve to stay with the kayaker, who's name we found out to be "Don." I tied the rope to Don's kayak, the other end to my waist, and proceeded to paddle back to the put-in spot dragging his boat behind me. After a pretty serious struggle to get myself and two kayaks back to the put-in, I was in sight of the put-in beach and began to formulate my plan. Do I have someone dial 911 to alert the sheriff? Do I find a boater willing to help me? I knew my chances of carrying Don on my own kayak were next to nil, since he hadn't proven he could stay upright in a kayak at all.
I finally made it into shore, dumped his kayak, and saw two guys beginning to load their little fishing boat into the water. I told them (okay, I demanded) I needed their help, told them approximately where Steve and Don were, and then tore out in my kayak back the half mile to where Steve and Don were holed up on the rocks.
I made it back to Steve and Don in relatively short order. (Amazing how fast one can go when you're not towing another kayak.) The guys in the fishing boat made it to us about ten minutes later. They were able to get Don into their boat, and took him to shore. Steve and I also paddled back to the put-in and met them all there. Don was a mess; couldn't walk, let alone carry his kayak back to his car. So, Steve and I carried his kayak for him, and got it placed on top of his ritzy SUV.
Okay, so besides the point that none of you will ever now want to go kayaking with me, what is the point of all this?
IT KILLED THE CONVERSATION I WAS ENJOYING WITH MY SON!
Neither of us saw the day as an opportunity to play water rescue. We just wanted to be together and get caught up. Don's lack of skill, his lack of carrying the appropriate safety gear, and paddling a boat that was technically beyond him led to the interruption of our day's plans. And I wasn't initially too happy about it.
Steve and I drove back to his house where we hugged and said our good-byes. It had been so good to see Steve, but I left bummed. On the hour drive home I found myself pouring out my complaint to God, and asking why He thought it necessary to change out plans and expectations for the day.
Here's what I heard: "I have my reasons." That's all I heard. "I have my reasons."
I guess the wrap up from this episode is this: maybe God wanted Steve and me to team up to help someone else. Maybe God wanted us to wonder why it all happened in the first place. Maybe God wanted to involve us in something with reasons we will never know. And maybe God wanted Steve and I to feel like our time together had been incomplete, and would be just that more motivated to want to be together again. And maybe I don't know God's reasons at all...
Bottom line for me? Always keep the safety gear on board, and leave the reasons for the interruptions to God. He, alone, is the Creator and Sustainer of the universe. He, alone, is sovereign, and can reveal or withhold His reasons for the interruptions that come my way. I can know that what are interruptions to me are really ordained plans instituted by a God who loves me.