Friday Thought : A Boat's Intentions

There’s a story I love about a boat. More specifically, about being irritated with one drifting in our way.

Picture yourself on a lake, heading toward your favorite spot. Off in the distance, a boat wobbles left and right, blocking your path. You wave, shout, and grow frustrated as you steer away. The boat keeps drifting closer. Anger rises—until you notice something.

There’s no driver.

And suddenly, the anger is gone.

Why? Because what we thought was intent turned out to be circumstance.

I was reminded of that this week in a parking lot. A truck sprawled across two spaces, crooked and careless. I rolled my eyes, muttered something about “fricken out-of-state drivers” (California plates, of course), and even snapped a picture for a potential Friday Thought. Our mistakes affect others, I told myself.

Then the driver walked up with his groceries. He asked why I was photographing his truck. When I explained, he told me the truth: the car before him—now gone—had double-parked. His truck wasn’t sloppy. It was the only option.

And just like that, my frustration disappeared.

Most of the time, our frustration isn’t about what happened. It’s about the story we tell ourselves about why it happened. We assume intent: they don’t care… they’re inconsiderate… they’re trying to make my life harder.

But what if—like the boat, like the truck—there’s no intent at all?

What if the teacher next door didn’t mean to be dismissive, they were just lost in thought?
What if the student wasn’t being disrespectful, but overwhelmed and caught at the wrong moment?
What if the parent isn’t mad at you, but scared for their child, weighed down by bills and worry, and you’re the only safe (or available) place to aim it?

The actions may still be wrong—the truck was still blocking others—but the intention wasn’t to harm. More often than not, it’s just life. Just circumstance. Just incomplete humans doing the best they can, in need of a little more grace.

The boat analogy doesn’t make life less messy, less frustrating or hurtful. But it turns down the burners a bit. It softens anger and keeps false accusations at bay. For me, anyway. And if I can continually keep the swerving boat and misparked truck in mind, it makes phone calls with parents, conversations with colleagues, and interactions with students a bit more calmer, kinder, and far more empathetic.

That's what I've been thinking about this week. 

Friday Thought : Right now, we are all rubber bands

In my most recent staff meeting I handed out a rubber band and asked people to get into groups of three. “Now stretch it out,” I said. And they did, but only to the point of resistance.

“How’s the rubber band?” I asked.

“Fine,” they said, because rubber bands are made to be flexible and to endure. Just like us.

“Now pull a little more,” I said. And they did. Not as much as the first, but still a good stretch.

“What about now?” I asked, “How’s the rubber band?”

“Fine,” they still said, but less assuradely.

“Now pull again.” And they did. “And again . . . and again, and again.” With each and again, they pulled a little less and worried a little more. One teacher even used her free hand to block her face.

“This is where we are,” I said, “We are made to endure, to be flexible, but with each new request, with each new demand, we stretch a little more and a little more and a little more. We are now living in a state of constant fear that we’re about to break.”

We can endure hard seasons. We can absorb change, be flexible, and stretch ourselves further than we thought imaginable. But not forever. Lest we break.

The problem is - for my staff in that meeting and for many of us in our daily lives - we don’t see an end in sight, largely because the problems and issues are far bigger than us, and we can’t do anything about it.

What we can do, however, is show grace. To ourselves, and to others.

Giving grace doesn’t mean we have a free pass to sacrifice our integrity or high standards of excellence - absolutely not! But it does mean that when we fail, we show grace - that we courteous and show goodwill.

You are trying your best. The woman next to you is trying her best as well. The man across from you is trying his best. The kiddos in your classrooms are showing up and trying their best, and your boss is trying her best. But we can only stretch so far. And for many of us, we are walking fearful that, with the next request or burden to bare, we will break.

We can’t solve most of the problems the people around us are asked to endure, but we can give them - and ourselves - some grace. Which, in the end, might be the only thing that holds us together.