It is Just A Game

This weekend I participated in a young adult retreat hosted by some of the crew on board the ship. The topic revolved around a series by Andy Stanley called "Guardrails". There were six topics where we watched a video and then broke into smaller group to discuss content and thoughts. Along with the spiritual aspect there were lots of fun activities to get people involved. It was also really nice to meet some of the new crew and put faces to their names that I seen on paper for months.

Group games. I'm not a huge fan of these types of activities but I see the value in them. Yesterday we had three, one at the beginning of each "session". The first one I really liked, the second one I didn't mind, and the third one was a complete disaster for me. This was the premise. Everyone had a partner and was standing in a big circle. One person of each pair was blindfold and had to retrieve one of their partner's shoes (which were in a big pile in the middle of the circle). It doesn't seem so bad, right? Just a little chaos to have some fun. Well, this game devastated me. Yes, devastated. It was because my inadequacy was put on display for everyone to see. I know you are thinking that I am overreacting and that thought is a little excessive. Vulnerability is one of the most difficult things for me to deal with. I like to be in control, I don't trust people, and I am happy that I can take care of myself. Yes, I see that all of those things are areas I need to deal with, and are certainly a cause for discussion, but let's save that for another time. Putting on a blindfold and being put at the mercy of another person is a nightmare for me. Once I realized I was one of the last people in that circle, and there were 80 sets of eyes around me, I lost it. Why wasn't anyone trying to help? Why did everyone continue to make noise and make it more challenging to try an accomplish the task at hand? Why did people just push me away when I ran into them when they could see. I don't know why this hurt me so much, but every time I think about it I start to cry. I cry, and I can't stop because I continue to think how much we see each other struggle and we don't do anything to help. Conversely, we may try to help but our instructions send the person in the wrong direction again. Does that mean we shouldn't try to help for fear of misguiding or misleading someone? I don't know. I don't know how to answer that. Life hurts a whole lot, so I would ask you to take hold of someone who is going the wrong direction and help them in their decision as to which direction to take next. Please don't just push them away with a quick word and hope for the future; show them how to get where they need to go. You can be there to equip them, if you so choose. I understand that this is not always an option and it is hard to think about helping someone else when you don't have yourself together, but you never know the great impact you can make unless to reach out. Who knows? They might even help you in the process.

On a prettier note (because my messy crying face isn't all that attractive), here is a pretty sunset from yesterday. The bow lines are stretching across the water, keeping us from floating away.