We haven’t seen land since Sunday, and though I’ve always known how large the Gulf of Mexico is, it’s still fascinating. I can’t imagine how the first sailors and travelers must have felt as they traversed the Atlantic in vessels not much larger than the lifeboats on this enormous ship.
Our cabin is at the rear of the ship, and this morning as we stood at the rail watching the ship’s wake, I noticed how quickly the churning water calmed and our wake disappeared. Only a few hundred feet behind us, the waters calmed, and no trace of our passing remained.
As I gazed out at the gentle waves beyond our wake, I thought how many of us plow forward through our lives, leaving a wake—sometimes good, sometimes bad—fearing once we’ve passed from this earth, the wake will smooth and there will be nothing to say, or show, we were here.
As I’m fond of saying, “Don’t be skeert!”
We must churn onward, knowing we’ve done our part, and knowing too, that perhaps it is not our legacy that will live on. We cannot know if some small—or large—act of kindness will be the key to the success—even greatness—of someone we’ve touched as we cruise through this mortal world.
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Marbles In My Pocket ~ The Official Blog of Charles L. Mashburn ~ Poems, Short Stories, and random thoughts from the author of "Be Still... and know that I am God" 
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