Reflections
of the Rising Sun
October
2008, Offshore Gulf of Mexico
I watched
a sunrise this morning. In my years in the oilfield, I would
conservatively
estimate I have seen some 3000 or so, give or take a vacation or
stormy
day. Each one looks the same yet is unique in its own appearance. For
the
pessimist it signals another long day of hard work and sweating in the
southern
sun, and looking forward to the end of the day. The optimist sees
another
full day of opportunities and new and exciting things to see and do. Many
of us
fall somewhere between those two extremes…we are realists. We see
another
day. Period. My Bible tells me the Lord made this day and I am to rejoice
and be
glad in it. I will.
As I
watch the sun appear as if rising slowly from the depths of the ocean,
I pause
to reflect. I am a blessed man, for each morning God paints this picture
for me to
see; and each afternoon if I am a mind to, I can see another glorious
portrait
in the western sky. I do not think about the economy, the presidential
race,
mistakes from my past, or even my current activities. For the immediate
present,
I reflect. I take in a deep breath and think simply how blessed I am.
The smell
of the ocean permeates everything. It is a hard smell to define
but once
it is ingrained in your memory, you will never forget it. I can smell the
acrid
diesel smoke that powers this drilling rig; a behemoth of iron and
technology
that so many of us rely on to support our families. My nose picks up
the smell
of epoxy paint. I have always thought it smelled a bit like the Style
Shop.
Maybe the same ingredient that holds a woman’s hair in place also bonds
paint to
steel. I pick up the faint scent of chemicals being added to the mud and
the
almost overpowering smell of the mud itself. I smell the shampoo I used this
morning.
It is overwhelming the multitude of things we take in, sift-through, and
process
on a daily basis. I let my mind wander.
I can
smell fresh cut grass at the high school stadium. It mingles with the
smell
coming from the grill cooking up hamburger patties. Occasionally I smell
someone’s
overpowering aftershave or their popcorn as they pass by on their
way to
the stands. I hear locusts singing in the trees, the drums of the marching
band, and
the counts and chants of the football teams warming up. I see a bustle
of
activity; moms and dads, brothers and sisters, fans and onlookers. There are
cheerleaders
with their arms loaded down with programs. There are grammar
school
kids playing football with a mashed paper cup. I am in high school again.
I smell
the early morning in the green house in the middle of town. There
is coffee
in the kitchen and Mom is making breakfast. Daddy smells like hair
tonic,
Old Spice, and cigarettes. His clothes have a faint smell of oil and grease
that
never washes out. The old butane heater sits there and glows, warming the
house. It
smells and feels comforting. I stare at the flame until my vision gets
blurry.
All is right with the world. I step outside and feel the cool bite of the air.
I
hear
trucks starting up. I smell the diesel smoke.
The sun
appears to be out of the water now. I can hear voices; some near
and some
far. Some crackle over the radio hanging from the back pocket of my
coveralls.
Some come from my right where the guys are furiously dumping sacks
into the
mixing hopper. A periodic crane whistle reminds me to look overhead to
see if a
load is swinging above me. With my earplugs tightly in place, I can hear
my own
breathing. If I keep my mouth closed and make short grunting noises, it
sounds
like a set of drums. If I try really hard, I can hear the waves lapping at the
surface,
some two hundred feet below the platform.
I feel
the cold painted steel of the handrail I am gripping. I feel the strain in
my calf
muscle as I prop one foot on the lower handrail. I feel the stretch in my
back and
hips as I position myself to be more comfortable. The muscles begin to
remember
countless mornings when they have felt the strain of this lifestyle. I
realize
that while the mirror may not show it and my brain certainly denies it, my
body
fully feels its age.
I breathe
a silent prayer. God knows my heart. He knows my mind. He
knows how
blessed I am and how humble I feel. He knows what lies ahead for
me today.
He knows everything that needs to be known. While I rest in the
knowledge
that God has it all under control, I am able to enjoy this brief respite
from the
daily grind. I am thankful for the senses He has given me. I am thankful
for the
ability to use them and enjoy the information that is being taken in.
Ninety
seconds have passed from twilight until now. In less than two
minutes I
have travelled twenty-five years. In less than two minutes I have come
from
darkness to light. I have experienced what could be described as a sensory
overload
from merely stopping to reflect. I have seen this same sunrise from a
tree
stand. I have seen this same sunrise from the seat of a farm tractor. I have
seen this
same sunrise through the windshield of my pickup. Sadly, I cannot say
that I
have stopped and reflected each and every time.
I am a
blessed man. While it seems the world around me is going downhill
fast I
cannot say that I am stressed out about it. We knew it was coming.
My family
is healthy. My church is doing well. I still have a job. I still have a
song to
sing and a joke to tell. I live in the country. I can see the mist rising over
my pond
early in the morning and walk the same ground that my ancestors did a
hundred
years ago. I live in a small town. I can still walk in a store and be known
by name,
joking with some of the people I encounter, and being encouraged by
others. I
live in America. I don’t have to worry about militia firing assault rifles
near my
home, or roadside bombs that may kill my children. For the time being at
least I
still have my freedom to worship as I choose. I can still hold my head up
and know
that in spite of it all, I am doing my best to keep the faith.
Though
storms around me rage, I cannot fall victim to fear. I have read the
back of
the Book. I know how it all turns out. When the latest topic of
conversation
is “Man you know how much I lost in my 401k yesterday?” I still
know that
everything is ok. My Father owns the cattle on a thousand hills.
I make
myself a promise to pause and reflect more often…to enjoy each
experience
and appreciate the good in each situation. To thank God more often
for the
way He has so richly blessed me. I pledge do my best to give and help
others
and to honor the God who has blessed me so.
The sun is fully risen.
Daylight
is officially upon us. It’s time to turn around now. It’s time to come back
to the
present. Two minutes have passed…practically a lifetime in this industry.
Fortunes
and lives have been lost in less time.
I smile.
I take another deep breath. My joints protest as I stand upright
and head
for the stairs. I think of a song I haven’t heard since eleventh grade. I
think of
the job that lies ahead today. I think of the shared responsibility for the
guys’
safety, the company’s bottom-line, and the performance of the team as a
whole. I
think of my family and my friends and how my goal is to return home as
healthy
as when I left. I make a mental note to step outside of the living quarters
tonight
after my shift is over. I want to look westward and see how this one ends.
I am
a blessed man. I watched a sunrise this morning.
