Sabbatical Soundings part 3 - Ocean perspectives.

It was something of a surprise to both my husband and I when I decided a Transatlantic crossing on a cruise ship would be something I'd like to do. Famously, I previously felt seasick on a canal barge.

But for me there was something about the length of the journey (11 nights on board with no stops) that appealed. It felt like we were placing the emphasis on the travelling itself -  and the time and effort involved in just travelling. Travelling 5000 miles at around 20mph was something I had never experienced. It was a significant investment of time compared with our 8 hour flight home. 

Of course, it was also a luxury! we were on board a large modern cruise ship - I really would not like to cross the ocean in something smaller! Our cabin was comfortable and the food was good (and plentiful) There was entertainment on board that we dipped in and out of (mostly out) but it was an opportunity to be off-grid and to read - both of which I took full advantage of. 

One of the aspects of the journey I knew I'd enjoy was the big skies. I love living where I live, but its abundance of trees means that my horizon is at least 50 feet above my head, and only a patch of sky is visible from any window. I wanted to put myself somewhere that the horizon would make me feel small and to experience something of the size of our planet in a way that modern air travel tends to deprive us of.

On the Atlantic ocean the sky was utterly enormous. Sometimes the horizon was close to the ship - we had some days of poor visibility with the result that the ship frequently deployed its fog horn. But on other days it stretched into the distance as if the ship and the sea were the only things to exist. So, although the ship itself was huge, it was more than possible to feel small. 

All too often I find there are things in life or in ministry which completely fill my horizon in an unhealthy way. What I need in those moments is a proper perspective. During our days at sea, as I sat and thought and read and prayed, I was able to find different perspectives on some things that I had been finding difficult. While there was learning and some healing in that itself, it turned out to be only the first of several shifts of perspective that the trip would bring about.

The gift and privilege of this sense of size, so hard to describe, has also brought a fresh meaning to some familiar hymns and songs.