Horizons

I recently met with a friend who grew up on the shores of Lake Michigan. As someone who grew up in the northeast, when I hear “lake” I think of places like Lake George or Squam Lake, beautiful bodies of water where you can see the other side, but Lake Michigan is something altogether different. As he described its enormity and the fact that you cannot see the other side, I began to feel anxious, disconcerted.

It's a feeling I’ve felt many times in my life. I felt it when I was in rehab and someone said I could never drink again. I felt it when I left my job and knew I’d never teach again. I felt it when my father died and I realized I’d never see him again.

Looking too far ahead is not good for one’s soul. Not seeing the horizon can leave a person feeling disconcerted, overwhelmed, and paralyzed. Fortunately, I found wiser people than I who pulled the horizons of my life within sight. They spoke not of forever but a moment, not of a lifetime but a day, and it’s made all the difference.

Every morning, I awaken and get to try again. Sitting with my coffee watching the sun rise, I think not of the rest of my life but the day ahead. Pulling in the horizon allows my soul to breathe a sigh of relief. Thinking about the kind of person I want to be, the husband, father, friend, or follower is easier when I consider only the next 24 hours. I’ll do better if I don’t look too far ahead. When I fall short, as I inevitably will, I get to try again the next morning.

“It’s about progress, not perfection,” the wise remind. That’s enough to give me hope so I can try again. I’m not sure, but I think that’s what grace is.