A year ago I took my daughters to see a fabulous movie called Maiden. It followed the story of the first women's crew in a sailboat race around the world. They didn't win the cup but they won something of great value. That film centers on the crew and their stamina.

 

Today I watched a much shorter video about the Scandinavian men who build historic vessels in Norway. For twelve minutes I followed behind the craftsmen of the Historic Vessel Vega, who take great slabs of lumber and muscle them into becoming the bow of a seaworthy ship. Surely the actual task spreads out over months or years. The recording conveyed the buzz of blades, and the whack of hammers. But I could not quite make out the groan of the wood itself. The logs were subjected to saws, sanders, nails, glue, and what I think are steamers to soften them enough to bend without breaking. If I were a felled oak, I think it would hurt. 

 

The logs don't know it yet, but they have an adventure ahead. Probably they have no previous experience with waves, or the swell of a great ocean. But in submitting themselves to knowing hands, they will explore places they never could have survived alone. Even though parts of them were left behind on the workshop floor. 

 

Honestly I identified with the lumber. While there have been no actual planers at my house, the experience of being pounded, pushed, carved, and overheated are familiar. What began as a directive to quarantine for a couple of months has stretched into what will be much longer. My plans have been bent, though not broken. The acrimony that is accelerating in society is hurtful. In submitting myself to having those rough edges in myself be scraped off, I am becoming seaworthy. It all takes longer than I would prefer. 

 

My will is being crafted by Hands that have a marvelous undertaking in mind. It is a place I could never find on my own.