"What do I do, Dan? I can't do it all!" Characteristically, I gave her the wrong answer. I don't deal well verbally with surprises, or women, and her words threw me off. "Uhh...close your eyes and paddle hard. That's what I do when I'm kayaking and I realize I'm about to be in over my head." Grit your teeth and bear it, woman! What a wise and sensitive thought.

Friday I went kayaking for the first time since February; instead of sensibly boating the tame and familiar Letchworth, we hit a new route in Caneadea. The farther we dragged our kayaks upriver, the more I realized just how technical this day was going to be. The fact that this would be the last chance to kayak before Tanzania kept me going. Minutes later, and against my better judgment, the river was carrying me swiftly towards the crux of the creek: a little pourover, where the river stops, drops several feet, and rolls on. The last time I met one of these small waterfalls, I got tubed and tumbled, bailed out of my kayak, and injured my shoulder. One thought: I can't do this. I'm going to fail again and life will be cold, wet, miserable and not fun.

I stop. I close my eyes. My life has stopped and all that is is the river, the rapid in front of me, and the line that I must take in order to be safe. Worries, daydreams, that nagging desire for sleep--all gone. In kayaking, the only way out is through. You cannot go back or get out. Wishful thinking, panic, and distractions are dangerous hindrances. So I stop, breathe deep, and I remember: loose hips, no flips; keep your paddle in the water; hold your weight forward; take the time for a deep mental breath underwater.

And above all, I remember that failure is not important. I have a life jacket and helmet; I have survived tougher rivers; Tim and Charlie have scouted the river and are confident that I can take it; and most importantly, those amazing paddlers are waiting on the other side, ready to snatch my boat and I out of the water and put us back together again.

Life is overwhelming. Sometimes I think I am in over my head. Sometimes I am. Don't get lost in the busyness. Stop. Take a walk. Close your eyes. Remember He Who is essential, what is important, and what is not. Pull back, fight your emotions for the high ground of perspective, and choose what to let go. Figure out what you truly stand to lose if you do fail, and above all remember the one who scouted out every drop in the river that lies before you and waits for you on the other side of this difficulty. Then open your eyes and paddle hard.