Wednesday, March 27, 2013

a series of life lessons from rowing - part 2


            Not long ago, I wrote about rowing, how it taught me a lot about trust, and how it has taught me a lot of life lessons that aren’t normally advertised as “join your local crew team – where you learn to row and tackle life’s most pressing issues.” 
Rowing is a sport filled with lessons and growth.  Discipline. Dedication.  Teamwork. Leadership. How to keep a boat on top of the lake instead of at the bottom.  Just when I started thinking that I was done with learning lessons from this team, a few smacked me in the face – the second is below, and I’ll try to keep ‘em comin’.
Second – teams, nations, and diversity of thought
If I’ve learned anything about the weather here in Birmingham, it’s that the name of the seasons has no power over the acts of nature.  This means that morning practices in March can get down below freezing.  The sun hasn’t always woken up before us, making it nearly impossible to keep warm while out on the water…and beyond impossible to keep warm if you’re forced into the water.
A few weeks ago we had two different boats out on the water one especially cold morning.  While I was waiting out on the water for the other boat to dock, something strange happened – the cox of the other boat called us over, asked us to dock on the other side so that we could help them.  We had no clue what had happened until we pulled up next to an ice-covered dock.  The other boat had flipped, the four girls in that boat had fallen in the lake in the less-than-ideal temperature, and the other boat – the only boat our team actually has ownership over – was filled with water and too heavy for the four girls to lift. 
Naturally, after putting away the unharmed boat, we decided that all eight rowers should be able to lift the water-filled-boat with no problems.  The other cox guided the boat while I made the usual calls in an attempt the turn the boat enough to drain the lake water.  What seemed like a seamless plan turned out to be fruitless efforts when the dock started sinking under the weight of all eight rowers and a boat filled with lake water.  With eight o’clock classes and tests quickly approaching, we only had one option left and that was for everyone to get in the freezing cold lake and to lift the boat while standing in water.  This may not have been the most popular idea, but it’s the only one that could work with our time and resources. 
When all eight of the rowers – both the boys’ and the girls’ boat – finally had the boat lifted out of the water, there was a moment of beauty despite the freezing cold water pouring out onto them.
 The way our team’s scheduling works out, most team members only spend ample time with their boat.  Our crazy schedules aren’t the only thing that divides our team.  As my roommate affectionately said last semester, “The crew team is really just a bunch of really weird people who have nothing really in common and just kind of found each other.”  I think that this statement is what made the victorious, terrible experience of lifting and draining the boat on that freezing morning so beautiful. 
We don’t necessarily know the entire team very well, nor do we share interests with each and every teammate or have similar values or shared belief systems.  We’re all very different people with very different interests, goals, and values – and when we accomplish things as a team it isn’t because we all put aside our own thoughts to accommodate another teammate, it’s because somewhere in our random collection of interests, goals, and values we have a loyalty to and passion for the well-being and success of our team. 
As I’ve found myself as a bystander in many conversations about the right or privilege or whatever you want to call same-sex marriage, I’ve found that this country could learn from the functionality of my small Christian school’s crew team – in every issue, not just the hot topic of marriage equality.  America, from its earliest stages, has been a melting pot – a collection of all sorts of people.  These people are not soft spoken, and they are all always right.  Laws stomp on beliefs, beliefs define religions, and religious organizations charge at the capital whenever they feel slighted. 
But what if we took a moment to look at this team that we are a part of as a country.  We can accomplish more, and provide a more loving community were we not so dependent on lawmakers guiding our actions.  It isn’t our place to outlaw beliefs that contradict our own, but instead to partake only in actions within our own control that support the mission we feel called to.  Laws don’t necessarily change people, but love can make a world of difference. 
That’s what makes the opening and closing ceremonies of the Olympics so beautiful.  So many different people, beliefs, and interests are all in one place peacefully.  They aren’t worried about the laws of the nations surrounding them supporting actions out of line with their beliefs. They’re all just there to compete in a beautiful world-wide, all-inclusive event.  If they didn’t include countries with certain beliefs, then eventually all competition would be lost.
And that’s what made this moment with these eight very different rowers lifting and draining this boat so beautiful.  In the most important moments, it doesn’t matter what the person next to me in a boat believes – all that matters is that we’re working together for the success of the team as a whole.

Thursday, March 14, 2013

a series of life lessons from rowing - part 1


            When I graduated high school, I whole-heartedly believed that I would never have to wake up before the sunrise again.  The flaw with this belief is that it was formed before I had learned about rowing, before I had joined my university’s crew team, and before I had experienced the joy and dread of watching the sun come out over the lake at 5:30 am practices. 
A little over a year ago I began rowing and coxing for my school’s rowing team, and over the past month I have to admit that the thought of quitting has crossed my mind several times.   Scheduling conflicts, early morning practices, and a drop in motivation have all contributed to this thought that maybe I couldn’t keep up with the demands of my love for this sport, but quitting is not something that comes naturally to me.  I weigh pros and cons until they’re worn out.  I ask my friends’ opinions until they won’t talk to me anymore.  I push myself until I break rather than succumb to pride and step down.  This aversion to quitting has lead me to follow one rule when deciding when it is and is not necessary to remove myself from certain situations – “Am I continually learning anything from this experience, and is this challenging my faith in new and good ways.”
Rowing is a sport filled with lessons and growth.  Discipline. Dedication.  Teamwork. Leadership. How to keep a boat on top of the lake instead of at the bottom.  Just when I started thinking that I was done with learning lessons from this team, a few smacked me in the face in one week – the first is below, the rest are to come later.
First – Trust. 
Photo by: Natalie Wilkinson
Rowers can’t see where they’re going.  When the row, they look to what they have already passed and have their backs facing the path ahead.  This is where I come in.  The coxswain steers the boat, both physically and mentally.  Not only is my job to tug on a little string that turns the rudder and manipulate rowers’ pressure to turn the boat, but also to encourage, motivate, and critique the rowers in my boat.  While rowers can only see the back their teammates head, coxswains see everything, forcing the rowers to trust this dead weight in the boat that keeps yelling at them. 
This past week, there was one day where our boat was scheduled to practice and the rain would not relent.  Rain makes rowing uncomfortable but not dangerous.  Other things that make rowing uncomfortable: oars, blisters, oddly shaped seats, long workout pieces, a poor set – basically everything about rowing is uncomfortable.  Throughout the day I received texts from each of my rowers asking if practice was cancelled, telling me that they thought practice was cancelled, and voicing their concerns as if I had no clue that they wouldn’t enjoy rowing in the rain.
I found myself immediately frustrated that the boat found it necessary to question the decision not to cancel practice.  After responding to each of their weather concerns, I kept getting more questions about if it would be light enough outside at the end of the day.  My roommate, a cox for one of the girls’ boats, told me that afternoon that none of her rowers ever questioned her this frequently.  My frustration grew as I wondered why my teammates couldn’t place their trust in me for this one practice.  It was disheartening that they had no confidence in my decision-making skills.  It was disheartening until I thought further.
It is in our nature to question things.  We hardly place our complete and unwavering faith and trust in anyone.  If it was frustrating to me,  a person completely capable of mistakes, that four rowers wouldn’t trust me, then how frustrating must it be when all of humanity questions our infallible creator and reserve our trust for other occasions. 
I have plans for my life.  I wrote out my schedule for next semester.  I know when I need to study for the rest of my tests this semester.  I have a pretty solid idea of what I want to do when I graduate.  And it baffles me to realize that all of these things that I have planned mean nothing until I trust God with the plans he has.  I used to make fun of my friends that based all of their decisions on “their calling” or answered that they were still “waiting for the Lord to reveal His plan” but I’m finding myself understanding them more lately.  I’m not saying that I can’t keep a calendar organized, or have a to-do list, but I have to approach them differently.  Rather than asking him time and time again if I should be changing my major, applying for certain jobs, or moving to a different city – I should be trusting and waiting for that text that cancels practice…or whatever way God communicates whatever plans he has.  Not sitting idly waiting for some giant sign, but confidently acting on decisions founded on trust.
And we, as leaders, have plans.  Without planning meetings, event calendars, and general organization – ministry would be chaos.  We don’t quit putting forth any effort or care and simply call it trust, but we build our plans on a foundation of trust and faith.

More to come later on rowing and how it's super spiritual and all that junk.