I’m not sure how I made decisions yesterday, but some of them were clearly faulty. The first faulty decision was to miss church to outrun a rain storm, so I could kayak down a river that was swollen from recent rains. The current was powerful and swift. But I felt confident I could manage it. I had experienced a physically taxing week, and yet I thought I was strong enough to handle this. It was like my old athlete-self was reincarnated. This was clearly me not thinking clearly. But as usual, when I make faulty decisions, I experience the natural consequences that come with them. Half way through the trip, we hit some rapids and as you can probably forecast, I lost control of my kayak, hit my head on a branch sticking across the river and dumped the kayak. I lost my new prescription eye glasses, my dignity, and had a ding in my confidence too. Here is where I might have acknowledged my fatigue and suggested we leave the river early. No, even with blurry vision, I carried on. 

Not far down the river, Brandi and my daughter, Brie, dump their kayak. Because both have more kayak experience than me, this salved my damaged ego. Until, yes… you guessed it. I looked back at one of them when they made a distress call and slammed into another tree and yep, dumped my kayak.

It was not until my son-in-law, Steve had emptied the water out my kayak and I was heading down the river, that I realized that the second trip into the river caused me to lose my wedding ring. My beloved wedding band. A ring that had been on my finger for 14 years and represented a love that had survived so many challenges and held so much joy. My heart was broken and I mourned at the idea of never seeing that ring again.

It began a grief process that was not unlike the grief of cancer. I cried, while still paddling down the river, just quiet streaks of tears that ran down my face. Then, when I told Brandi, she said, “I’m just so glad that you are safe and in one piece. That’s the important thing.” Then I felt blessed, and loved, and grateful. Once we were pulling away from the river in our truck, more tears fell as I felt like I was leaving my ring behind. Then I felt blessed again because I had a marriage with such depth that I would miss the wedding ring that represented it. My emotions were a lot like the river, smooth and peaceful one moment and then without warning, my feelings were intense and deep and turbulent. It’s not pretty, It’s not comfortable. But it is real. 

When we mourn, we always have the opportunity to see the blessing we had in our life, to balance the loss with the gift. Glennon Doyle Melton, says that for every eviction, there is an invitation. So, what is my invitation in the midst of my loss? Mine is to let go of control and allow Brandi to pick out a ring that represents our commitment to each other and to value the relationship it represents. What is your invitation?