Man Overboard!

During my first relationship, my gift-giving led to the emotional reenactment of the Titanic sinking.

Remember in the movie when a wide-eyed Leonardo DiCaprio sketches Kate Winslet wearing nothing but a blue diamond Heart of the Ocean necklace? I do! I was still new to puberty when I saw that scene on VHS! Since I couldn’t write poetry and my artistic ability was limited to smiley faces, my impressionable mind deducted that jewelry was my ticket into a lady’s heart. After all, I neglected to learn it was the aristocrap fiancé who bought her the necklace. Being immature at 14 years old, I just fast-forwarded to the part with boobs.

Fast-forward a decade later, Celine Dion’s vocal chords were chiming in my head when I bought my then-girlfriend an open-heart penchant necklace. I told her that it was to symbolize how “My Heart Will Go On”. I placed the penchant around her neck and she passionately replied by navigating her lips onto my mine. At that moment, I was King of the Wooooooooooooooooorld!

Later that night, her fingertips softly caressed my neck and she started whispering sweet-nothings into my ear. Staring into the necklace, she tested the oceanic depths of my romanticism by asking, “How much did something like this cost you?”

Like a moron, I replied, “$4.98 at Target. It was on clearance!”, and followed it up with a peck kiss. “Luv you hunny”.

My intuitive sense of the female psyche informed me that she was troubled, and soon it felt like an iceberg had slammed into our cuddle. I’m surprised she didn’t attempt to signal an SOS distress call through Morse code via her eye-twitching. Alas, the necklace broke a month later. Few weeks later, her Atlantic blue eyes flooded with tears after realizing we were on a ship that would never reach its matrimonial destination. The relationship capsized and it was man overboard for me.

That was the first time I ever really-really got down on my hands and knees in a Gethesame prayer stance. I pleaded God to help me weather the storms of heartbreak. Lost in a sea of emotions, I was struggling to keep my head above water. Unfortunately, relationshipwrecks have crushed me more than once now. When my heart is forced to walk the plank, I feel like a human bobber without a line, floating helplessly in the waves, desperate to come up for air. The only spiritual buoy I’ve had during these tumultuous currents was with God, holding on to Him for dear life when I had nothing else to anchor myself to.

After what seemed like the time needed to proofread Moby Dick, my body would wash ashore an island of singleness. I half-hoped that Jesus would see me from His lifeguard post, then run in slow motion with David Hasselhoff chest hair to the tune of the Baywatch theme song. He wouldn’t even need to swim. Jesus would just run atop of water to pull my lifeless body out, drag me to the beach where Pamela Anderson was ready to apply CPR and resuscitate me back to life.

Then I’d look up. Boobs.

June 21, 2015–10:30 am Polka Mass: St. Anne Catholic Church in Wausau, Wisconsin (St. Anne Fest)

I found myself in a giant white tent about the size of Jonah’s fish for my first-ever polka mass. This was unique, as you got to hear gospel from the King of the Jews next to banners for the King of Beers. Polka masses are a big thing during Wisconsin summers, especially in the Roman Catholic Church. Every weekend, there’s at least one Catholic congregation pitching tents, frying bratwursts, and tapping Miller Lite kegs while members polka dance the night away. On Sunday morning, the festivities halted for a community-wide polka mass where the musicians altered their accordions to become more appropriate for a spiritual setting.

The liturgy and the ritual of Catholic mass was still something of a mystery to me. This was my fifth Catholicism experience, and I still wasn’t picking up cues on what to say during the mass, when to sit, or when to stand. It’s like Simon Says, except here I could purchase a Bud Light Raz-Ber-Rita and blame my ignorance on the 8% ABV.

What was odd about this day was I wasn’t the only one who was clueless to the service’s procession. The polka band leading mass didn’t know either! The band members looked at its lead singer with stares of concern, trying to get on the right page. Each musical misfire formed another bead of sweat dripping down their foreheads. I couldn’t help but envision Wisconsin’s premier polka band on an episode of VH1’s Behind the Music, discussing their break-up after the 20th mistimed “Hallelujah” or “A-A-aaaaa-men”.

After so long, the congregation thought screw it and began to cover for the lead singer. This was an odd transition into the sermon when the priest prefaced his sermon from Mark 4. So the reading went, Jesus was getting some much-needed beauty sleep in a boat while crossing the Sea of Galilee. When a furious storm came, the waves nearly broke the boat. The disciples woke Him and said, “Teacher, we know your Sleep Number is just where you want it, but don’t you care if we drown?”

Jesus woke up, rebuked the wind and said to the waves, “Quiet! Be still!”

The wind died down and it was completely calm, thus also reducing the disciples’ Geico boat insurance rates when word spread of this. He said to his disciples, “Why are you so afraid? Do you still have no faith?” Then Jesus went back to counting sheep and they were terrified. The disciples asked each other:

“Who is this? Even the wind and the waves obey Him!”

The priest’s motioned his hands in fluid motion, basing his sermon from a recent encyclical letter from Pope Francis, titled Laudato si’. In English, this translates “praise be to you, my Lord”. He shared the pope’s vision of praising a God who would give us gifts like the wind, sun, and rain.

Sitting there listening to this message, I thought of my life and the times that I saw God’s hand in my life when the elements were beating down. I’d be stuck in the middle of the high tides that hit in all of our lives, asking “Can I really trust God’s plan for my life?” It’s difficult for me to trust God that He’s the screenplay writer, director and producer in our lives. What exactly does He have in the script?

But when I look back at the adversity, I came out better when faced with the rains and winds, using the Bible as a map to move forward when there was only dark clouds. He has a way of out-doing us. Just commit to keep moving forward, paddling one stroke at a time. God does some of His best work when we’re lost at sea.

In pain, there is a healing of oneself, an ever deepening deep blue sea to search for our own Heart of the Ocean. In many ways, whoever is fortunate to deep dive into this drink, you are the one who will feel deeply, who will grieve to the depths of your being, and who will know the ecstasies and agonies of love, love in all its totality, not just for its peace and pleasure.

There’s moments when I feel like it would be better off to smuggle my heart in a Dead Man’s Chest, throw out the key and have it sink to the bottom of Davy Jones’ Locker. Never to be seen again. In today’s culture, grief is a very misunderstood, and sometimes even taboo emotion. We are told to “get over it and move on.” But the soul needs devotion and reckless abandonment when it comes to love. Feelings are meant to be given and expressed, streaming unpredictably in its course, impossible to be controlled.

There’s a line from Pirates of the Carribean: At World’s End that has always stuck with me. As Will Turner is talking to Captain Jack Sparrow about his courtship with Elizabeth falling apart, he confesses:

“I’m losing her, Jack. Every step I make for my father is a step away from Elizabeth.”

Jack, smelling of rum with an over-application of mascara, looks at him with his yellow stained teeth and says something I could never forget. The same chest that would block out disappointment would also block out the wonderful treasures of life.

“Mate, if you choose to lock your heart away, you‘ll lose it for certain.”