Dive back In

Sea world came to my house today.
Well sort of.

A seal decided it would be a good idea to climb up the stairs of our beach house.  And not just one set but two! He decided not to go onto the top deck but instead rest two steps from the top.  Rest from his long journey and like any other Californian, sun bathe.
He would stretch every so often and look around.  Look around at life from his new found perspective.
From way up there he could see other life that swims around him like never before. He could watch the dolphins frolicking in the waves.  He could see birds flying high.  People down on the beach were no longer predators but rather another thing moving along the shore.  
I watched him for a long time this morning through the window.  He looked back at me.  I guess I seemed like the one who was in an exhibit,  held behind glass.   He was life beyond my window.  I was life inside. 

After a while, my mom and I began to wonder if he would be able to get down.  We thought of calling the Ocean Wildlife Rescue people but decided to see what he would do first. My mom went on the deck upstairs and began to talk to him.  He then proceeded to slide down the stairs a bit to get a safe distance away.  And then called it nap time after he realized we wouldn't hurt him. 
He eventually moved a bit further down the stairs, finally past the first deck.  Yet he continued to rest and look out onto the ocean.

I began thinking about what it must have been like for him.  Out of his ordinary life, into one that didn't require much of him,  allowing him just to nap and bask in the sun.  He ventured from his known into the unknown in quite an act of bravery.  To heights no other seal he knows has probably climbed. And although he liked it, it wasn't where he belonged.  
It took the voice of a mom to coax him further down the stairs.  To convince him just enough to move. 
Isn't that true in our lives though?  That sometimes we need something, something that may even scare us a little, to coax us back?  Coax us back to the place we were made to go.  The place we were made for. 

Sure that place we were made to be may scare us too.  But sometimes we need that kind of coaxing, the encouragement to move to where we can thrive. 
Because he wouldn't thrive if he stayed here all the time. He would get weaker, lose sight of what he was meant to do.  He would have a nice view but not be able to do anything. 

And you know, to be perfectly honest, I feel a bit like him.  Removed from where I seemed to thrive and have purpose.  Stuck in my retreat from the world, with a nice view but kind of stuck.  
I am scared too.  Scared to go back to school, back to things I used to do.  Back to places where people know me for what I did and not who I am, for I can no longer do those things - at least not at the moment. 
I am also scared of crashing and spiralling further into the unknown debilitations from CFS.  I do not want to over do things and get worse, so I don't do them.  I stay where I am comfortable. I do the routine that I know I can do. 
It takes that same voice of encouragement that moved the seal, to make me move, to challenge me to try things, to convince me to come down to California.  And I am so glad I am here.  Somewhere different where my routine does have to change because I am not at home. 
It took the nudgings of the Spirit and strength from Christ to share my story.  To deal with the chapter I am in now and not further deny it.  To write this blog.  To do something where I once again have a purpose and can thrive - however different it is. And I was scared.  I knew I wanted to share my story but I was scared at how people would respond, wondered if anyone would care, would want to hear my story, would keep coming back. 
But I am blown away by the encouragement and blessings writing has brought me.  I am astounded by all who care. By all who want to somehow be apart of my story where I slowly try to get back into the ocean of life doing what I was made to do. 

And I am ever so blessed that you are a part of my story. Thank you for coming back.  Thank you for being the encouraging voice that pushes me a little.  That prays me back to the place where I dream to be.  Where God has bigger plans for me.  And thank you for being patient with me as I stop and just rest.  Just rest and wait. 
Wait and expectantly hope for the time when I can dive back in.