The importance of a life jacket

So this summer Brian found a wonderful deal on a little sailboat for the lake at the cottage. He was so excited—as excited as Brian can be—to get out on the lake.

On his third trip out he noticed that the auto bailer (the device on the boat that automatically pumps out water that gathers in the boat) was not working properly. He did some Googling and thought he had figured out the problem. So when the wind picked up on this particular afternoon, he invited me to join him.

It was the most wind we had experienced in a while, and Brian was practically giddy (again, as giddy as Brian can be) to get out on his new toy and share the adventure with me.

I met him on the dock, grabbed a bright yellow life jacket, and off we went.

It was windy. A sailor’s dream, and a non-sailor’s nightmare.

The boat was moving quickly and that was fine, but water began gathering in the bottom of the boat. Then more water. Then even more. I would not be exaggerating to say that three-quarters of the boat was full of water. I am no sailor, but that just looked wrong.

“Brian… your auto bailer is not working. We should head back so you can fix this. This does not feel safe,” I said, calmly ;)

But Brian was too distracted to hear me because he was busy fixing some line connected to another line that was probably attached to another line. Regardless, he did not heed my concern. Moments later, a big gust of wind caused the boat to heel and—try as we might—the boat capsized. It happened so fast.

I was hanging onto the boat for dear life when I heard Brian say, as calmly as if he were asking me to pass the salt, “Get in the water.”

So, I got in the water. But then the sleeve of my SPF coverup got caught on some boat thingy and I couldn’t break away. After some frantic yanking (goodbye sleeve), I finally swam out of the way of the sail that was now sinking beneath us. Meanwhile, Brian climbed back on the boat, threw his whole weight on the centerboard, and—just like that—righted the boat.

There was no way I was getting back in that boat. Nope. Not happening. So I announced I would swim back. It was only 400 meters, but let me tell you, I felt like Diana Nyad (watch the movie Nyad) braving the waves, fatigue, and sharks. Okay, there were no sharks, but it was wavy. And swimming with a life jacket is not exactly graceful.

Meanwhile, Brian sailed toward the cottage. And I thought, “Oh, good. He’s going to drop off the sailboat, get the motorboat, and come rescue me.” But alas, he caught a beautiful breeze and—like a man on vacation with no worries at all—sailed in the opposite direction.

So there I was, doing the backstroke toward shore, thinking: Where is God in all this?

And here’s where I landed: God is the life jacket.

That bright yellow, slightly awkward, not-so-stylish jacket was the only reason I could laugh about this adventure instead of panic. I didn’t have to be a strong swimmer. I didn’t have to keep myself afloat by sheer willpower. The life jacket carried me—through the waves, through the exhaustion, through the ridiculousness of being abandoned (lovingly, of course) by my husband who had sailed off into the sunset.

In the same way, Jesus is the One who keeps us afloat when life capsizes. He doesn’t always stop the wind from blowing or the waves from crashing. Sometimes the auto bailer fails, the boat tips, and we find ourselves flailing. But He is the One who says, “Put me on. Trust me. I’ll carry you.”

Life jackets don’t look glamorous. They’re bulky, awkward, and they mess up your tan. But they save your life. And Jesus—our ultimate Life Jacket—saves us not just for the swim back to shore, but for eternity.

So maybe next time the winds rise and you feel like you’re going under, remember: you’re not. Because He’s got you.

Finding my centre at the wheel

This summer I had the privilege of taking Ceramics II at the Haliburton School of Art and Design. What a joy it was to spend a week with clay on the wheel, learning, experimenting, and creating. One of the very first lessons we were reminded of is that the most important step in throwing any pot is centering.

If the clay isn’t centered on the wheel, the entire pot will be off. It may wobble, misshape, or simply not rise to its full potential. No matter how skilled you are, if you skip centering, the vessel will never become what it was meant to be.

As I worked at the wheel, I couldn’t help but think—how true that is for our lives as well. If we are not centered, we too become pulled off balance, stretched thin, or unable to grow into all that God intends.

For me, centering means returning daily to God—the One who grounds me. It means prayer before rushing into the day, opening Scripture before opening my inbox, and remembering that my worth doesn’t come from productivity but from being a beloved child of God. When I take time to be centered in God, my life is steadier, my perspective clearer, and my spirit more at peace.

Just as a potter presses firmly, guiding the clay into alignment with the wheel, God lovingly shapes and steadies us when we turn back to that center. And in God’s care, we become vessels for goodness and grace.

Maybe that’s the invitation for us all today: pause, breathe, and find your center in God. The rest of the day will take its shape from there.

“Yet you, Lord, are our Parent. We are the clay, you are the potter; we are all the work of your hand.” — Isaiah 64:8

When God's Grace Bothers us

Reflections on Jonah 4

Let’s be honest—Jonah 4 is a strange ending to a prophet’s story. You’d think that after preaching a powerful message that leads an entire city to repentance, Jonah would be thrilled. But no. He’s angry. Disappointed. Even sulking.

Why? Because God showed mercy.

Jonah wanted judgment. He wanted the wicked people of Nineveh to get what they deserved. But God, in His infinite compassion, gave them grace instead—and Jonah couldn’t handle it.

Have you ever felt that way?

It’s hard to admit, but sometimes we struggle when God blesses others—especially when we don’t think they deserve it. Or maybe we’ve done all the “right things” and still feel like we’re sitting in the sun, waiting for our turn to be noticed, blessed, or vindicated. Like Jonah, we’re quick to forget that the same grace God gives to others is the grace He gives to us every single day.

In Jonah 4, God gently reminds Jonah (and us) that His love is bigger than our bitterness, and His mercy is not ours to control. He asks Jonah, “Is it right for you to be angry?” (v.4) and then uses a plant—of all things—to illustrate just how invested Jonah is in his own comfort, and how little compassion he has for a city full of people who didn’t know better.

Here’s the hope in this: God doesn’t give up on Jonah. Even when Jonah is pouting and prideful, God is still speaking. Still teaching. Still reaching for his heart.

Maybe today you’re wrestling with unfairness. Or you’re waiting for God to act the way you would act. Jonah 4 reminds us that God’s ways are higher, His mercy is wider, and His heart is always, always loving.

Take heart, friend. If you’re sitting in the heat of disappointment or confusion, God is still with you. He’s still speaking—and He’s inviting you to grow in grace.

A little note: I’ll be taking a short break from blogging over the next few weeks, but I’ll be back with new posts in September. Wishing you a safe, refreshing, and joy-filled August. See you soon!