I am on an ocean liner. In my mind. Where I can look out over an azure blue Caribbean and see nothing but open water. There are no other ships in sight. It is only me and the unknown.

I lean over the polished brass railing and pause. No one else is on my ship. I am truly alone.

The ship turns ever so slightly as if on cue. I run to the starboard side and look about at all the emptiness, and I am frightened, yet the sea is expansive and I can’t help but marvel at how blue the water is. How gentle her waves.

I am only afraid because this is what I have been told to feel. Curiosity does not come to mind easily, but the fear of being alone does. I have no idea where this ocean liner is taking me. There is no itinerary.

Perhaps one day my ship will dock at a port and I will disembark all smiles and happiness, but for now, my ocean liner is taking me somewhere I have never been. I feel it. I am learning to embrace this unknown. It is all I have. But I am tentative and cautious.

You will say, “Oh, but you have friends and loved ones to travel alongside you.” And yes, I do. I know there are other ships on this beautiful sea. I have known this all my life. They are traveling where they need to go. As am I.

But for now, the sea is my sea. The ship is my ship. The direction is mine, as is the pace and my knowing. There is no one on this ship telling me how to be.

I will walk these beautiful old wooden decks, the ones that I have built, and polish the brass. My ship will be beautiful and stately. As am I.

This is the dance we all dance. The one where we feel we must turn repeatedly to another and ask, “Will you be my partner? Will you?” But there are no partners on my ship. I was once married but never felt my husband traveling beside me on the same boat, on the same ocean, or on the same course. But that is me. That may not be you.

To re-birth this evolving self takes a certain amount of courage and fortitude when one is alone, but it can be done. It has now become a choice, but you are not here to witness the difficulty of that ferocious stormy sea of decisions where I fought with myself and the stars for better navigational tools.

My seas are more tranquil now knowing that to re-create a new sense of place within I must stand alone. I have reached a place of knowing.

I want what is best. For me. For you. But my ship and your ship are two very different creations and we must always remember this. I can’t make you like polished brass and crystal chandeliers just as you can’t make me like your tipping, leaking catamaran.

But we will dance in the love of knowing that the sea is expansive and will bring us to where we’re asking to go. We may not know the journey's destination or pace, but just because I am on a certain kind of boat and you are on another, does not mean I will get there before you. Catamarans skim the surface of the sea and catch the wind without pause.

You have tried to sleep on cotton sheets and I on rumbled ticking.

We are two very different sailors, you and I. But knowing this is love. And the best is yet to be.

Please join me as we carefully unpack the soul’s desire to travel through Earth’s difficult expansion in Grace and Love.