When Life Feels Like Paddle Boating in Circles

Company picnics are supposed to be simple. You show up, smile politely, eat a hamburger some department leader overcooked, and go home overheated from the sun, with a Styrofoam plate full of leftover hot dogs, chips, and potato salad. That's it. That's the whole assignment.

But somehow, my two youngest daughters whom I had invited to come along, after sampling food from the buffet table and meeting my coworkers managed to turn a normal event into a full-blown sitcom episode.

My middle daughter, Candice- yeah, yall remember, the adventurous one, the "try anything once" one, spotted people paddle boating. "Let's go do it! she said. Now listen... We are from Arkansas, not the Everglades. We don't paddle boat. We don't kayak. We don't float unless it's in the bathtub. And let's be real - none of us can swim. But my youngest daughter, Faith- always the voice of reason, saw disaster coming and immediately said her signature byline, "Nope. Absolutely not."

Candice immediately looked disappointed. And like every mama who has ever been guilt-tripped by their child’s sad face, I caved. "Okay," I whispered. (Against all wisdom, all logic, and everything the good Lord ever tried to teach me.) We marched down to the dock like we were stepping into our destiny. The staff fitted us with life jackets - which should have been our first clue- and we plopped into the paddle boat.

Immediately - the boat started drifting straight towards a giant water spout in the middle of the lake like it had a personal vendetta against us. Did we know how to steer? Absolutely not. Was water splashing inside the boat? You bet. Why? Because all three of us were sitting on the same side like we were taking a family portrait on the sinking Titanic. People on the dock saw the mess unfolding and and started shouting instructions: “MOVE TO THE OTHER SIDE!” “SHIFT YOUR WEIGHT!” “BALANCE THE BOAT!” Let me tell you something...You have not known fear until you try to shift your weight in a wobbly paddle boat that you are certain is two seconds from capsizing.

Candice is embarrassed. Faith was furious. And I was calling on the Name of Jesus like I had Him on speed dial. The whole thing looked like the world's slowest, saddest emergency. But, somehow through a series of tiny terrified scoots, we managed to turn the boat around and head back toward the dock. When we finally reached land again? We stepped off that paddle boat like survivors of a documentary.

When we moved to Northern Virginia, life sometimes felt like that boat- wobbly, unbalanced, and drifting toward things I did not sign up for. There were seasons where no matter what I did, it felt like I was going nowhere. Days when I woke up feeling like I was simply drifting, not living. Moments where my life looked like a circle I couldn't break out of: Two steps forward...Two steps back. And the discouraging part? I didn't know how to steer that boat either.

But as I learned my new surroundings, something tender and quiet started happening. Every now and then God would send someone across my path- a stranger in the grocery line, a co-worker, a neighbor who would say one sentence, ask one question, or share one story that nudged me in the right direction. Little God-whispers in human form. And I began to realize: If we fine-tune our ears...if we quiet our panic long enough...we will hear the instructions being shouted from the shore. "Shift your weight." Move this way." "Try again." "Don't give up." Guidance comes. Help comes. Direction comes. But we have to be willing to listen.

Sometimes the bravest thing you can do is make the smallest shift and trust that the dock is closer than you think. There's a moment in Isaiah 30:21 that speaks so deeply to seasons when life feels unsteady: "Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you saying, "This is the way; walk in it."

So when you're in the middle of a "paddle-boat season" - water splashing in your face, fear rising, and people shouting from the shore- God's voice has a way of cutting through the noise. Not loud. Not forceful. But steady. Clear. Sure. He does not abandon us to the drift. He does not watch us circle aimlessly from a distance. He stands close enough to whisper direction.

Sometimes His guidance doesn't come in thunder or lightning- but in the coworker who speaks encouragement, the stranger who shares wisdom, the friend who loves you back to clarity, or the daughter who says, "We can do this." God's whisper is often woven into ordinary moments. And He has never - not once- lost sight of us on the water.

Please enjoy the blog companion Devotional “Learning to Follow God’s Direction.”