Thoughts upon sailing to the Caribbean: Day One

I am perpetually plagued by the smallness of my life. It is a subtle feeling that creeps over me in the quiet hours of the night when people contemplate their existence, wrestling with doubt. Gazing out the grand paneled windows at the back of our cruise ship I see we are leaving behind a tremendous wake - more than a mile long and yet in the scope of this beautiful gulf we are swallowed up, barely a ripple on the crest of magnitude.
That is my life: here today, gone in the blinking of eye.
Even so, I feel a curious significance. The waters are a blue so achingly beautiful I can hardly stand to look away. The clouds are like delicate sculptures framing the sky. Every so often I see broken off clusters of seaweed bobbing in the waves. They hint at a secret life under the surface, hidden, yet intricate and fully developed. In this moment, I’m not lost in my own smallness. I bear an irrepressible smile knowing that the one who created such majesty, who designed the ocean and its life for his own good pleasure also created me.
I chafe at the structure of my personality. I am stubborn, opinionated, and more than a touch bossy. I find myself preoccupied with making it easy for people to be around me, but I sense I am like a morning vitamin - good for the body, but difficult to swallow. I am constantly trying to refashion myself into a meek and mild character, but right now, I am wondering why I’ve been so bent on changing who he made me. Did he delight in setting me as an immovable stone in a landscape of soft grass and bright flowers? Certainly he who filled the oceans and formed the mountains finds challenge and contrast charming.
What I’ve seen as an unrefined mess is perhaps better acknowledged as his jagged masterpiece embodying strength and displaying a beauty only understood for its inflexibility against harsh winds and harder times.

On my own I am definitively and without exception small, but in him and his love I find greatness.