Pelorus Jack was a dolphin that guided ships through the Cook Strait in New Zealand. For twenty four years every boat that followed him was able to navigate the rocks and currents safely, some waiting to proceed until Jack showed up. One brash member of the crew of the S.S. Penguin dared to shoot at the dolphin, and thankfully missed. Because of the incident a law was set in place to protect Jack, which was perhaps the first legal action of its kind. Plus the dolphin no longer offered assistance to that ship and it crashed in 1909.

 

My mind likes to play with the unspoken elements of the story. Why would a dolphin concern himself with the doings of a vessel? How did Jack understand that although the passageway was safe for him, people were less so? I can think of no motivation to reinforce the effort, more than appreciative waves from the sailors. Twenty four years is a lengthy career as a guide, especially one with no benefits. 

 

There have been rocky passages in my life. Times I felt anxious about the hidden perils awaiting my missteps. Once our child staunchly refused to come on our family vacation and I felt nervous to leave him at home unsupervised. I had a sense of being shepherded toward a compromise that brought us all closer in the end. 

 

Retiring from my small job in the preschool seemed like stepping into uncharted waters. Yet there was an undertow that carried me along. Then the costume position appeared and I hopped aboard. 

 

I believe that God is mindful of my journey, and will escort me past peril should I elect to follow. It is for me to look back over my shoulder and wave.