Sailing between the Storms
- kimpendleton
- Oct 23
- 2 min read
I am learning that to taste the fullness of life, I must stop racing ahead of grace.
To linger where I stand.
To rest in the sacred present moment where God still reigns—sovereign over all my striving.
Yesterday, a major internet outage silenced my online school, and yet, there I was, one of the few still connected. Four students of the eighteen made it through the fragile thread of connection, and together we carried on.
I prayed the recording would hold, and it did.
Amidst the flurry of texts from other teachers and refreshing my browser to see if Canvas was back online, I went about my day as usual.
Outside the digital storm, another work was unfolding.
My sun porch, the place where I greet the morning light, was being transformed. Tawny walls, once heavy with years, now yield to a Pale Oak and Chatura Gray. Trim making the metamorphosis from unadorned brown wood to Chantilly Lace, popping out and drawing in the light.
As the walls transform, so too has my workload, a slow unburdening that has allowed more room for grace to dwell.
Disentangling from technology, once an idol polished by productivity, has taught me peace in the midst of outages and interruptions.
This was the longest storm of my online teaching life, yet my soul remained calm. Last Sunday’s sermon echoed in my heart: How we spend our time between storms shapes how we sail through them.
And truly, sailing practice was key.
Whether meeting in a virtual classroom with four eager second graders, or pressing blue painter’s tape along crown molding with careful fingers, we are always being invited into the kingdom. Our smallest acts—each brushstroke, each patient pause—matter to God.
So today, as we navigate this stormy digital sea, may our eyes open to the quiet work of His hands in all things. And perhaps, if we are willing and brave enough, we will take up our place beside Him, joining in the eternal labor that yields treasures no outage can erase.
Reflection Questions:
Where in your life are you tempted to rush ahead of grace?
What “sailing practice” helps you stay grounded between storms?
How might God be inviting you to see your daily work, no matter how ordinary,
as part of His eternal kingdom?
