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This is Lee Habib and this is Our American Stories. Up next, a story from Scott Stewart. Scott's a writing student of our regular contributor, Leslie Leland Fields. Scott's story today is entitled Waves of Awakening. Take it away, Scott.
There are moments in life when the soul stirs and subtle truths come into sharp focus. My spiritual awakening had been unfolding quietly for some time. whispering through everyday experiences. But during a recent 2.4 mile ocean swim, it erupted into full realization. I both knew it was coming and couldn't imagine it, all at the same time.
I'm still glowing with God's grace, and I want you to feel it too. My journey started some sixteen years earlier in the summer of two thousand nine. I was bankrupt, morally, spiritually, financially. Curled in the fetal position on the kitchen floor, I cried for help. help arrived in the form of a simple prayer.
More of a request. I had been cloaked in a blanket of guilt and shame. of crippling low self-esteem for most of my life. It was what I knew. It was comfortable and warm.
But serenity doesn't grow in comfort and warmth. It grows from challenge. From relying on something greater than ourselves. In the face of fear and uncertainty, it all came together this day. It starts with Sean.
Career Navy guy. Beach Patrol. Open water. A total beast. We graduated high school together.
Service connects us, but it's more than that. He's the kind of friend who doesn't listen to excuses, doesn't coddle. He doesn't ask if you're ready. He hit me up. Let's do that Cape May 2.4 mile swim.
You and me. We got this. I didn't hesitate. I just said I'm in. Monday morning, no wishy washy.
No mental gymnastics. Just a quiet grounded truth. This is a thing. And I do this thing. Um The two-hour drive to Cape May felt like a pilgrimage.
I listened to Richard Rohr. His words made me think of my beautiful Aunt Beck. She raised me. She's my reference point for what it means to dedicate your life to God. Not perform it, embody it.
Her faith wasn't loud, it was lived. The weather was beautiful. I'd call it perfect. The time came. We were standing at the water's edge, just him and me.
Sean stood silent for a moment. Unusual for a guy like him. In that moment, he was... Reverend. In that silence, something shifted.
It was surreal. In that moment, he wasn't just my swim partner. He was my witness. He looked out at the horizon. then back at me.
His voice was low and steady. Let's go. We step forward together, shoulder to shoulder. The sun was exceptionally bright with not a cloud in the sky. A more perfect day there simply could not be.
The water met us with force. Waist high and rising. But we didn't flinch. This wasn't about distance. It was about declaration.
I am not who I was. I am ready. I know a few things about open water swimming. Enough to know you don't know anything. You can't anticipate the cold, you can't predict the clarity.
You don't know if a fish will dart beneath you or if your goggles will fog up in the first five minutes. You don't know if your breath will catch or your body will betray you halfway through. all of that mind noise. A waste of energy. The benchmark was 800 yards.
Get there. Breathe. Relax. Control what I can control. attitude and effort.
For God's sakes, stay calm. I didn't fight the water, I joined it. The first 800 yards, no checkpoint, just the buzz of my watch. The water was clear. Hold.
Honest. We'd made it past the break and turned right. The waves didn't crash, they pulsed. Relentless. From sure, they looked tame.
I laugh at myself now thinking they'd be manageable. This was no easy task. The ocean didn't care about my prep. My mindset by rituals. It just kept coming.
undulating. Testing. The water kept rolling. I thought about seasickness, the way the waves tossed me. Not violently, but rhythmically, like being rocked by a force that didn't care if I found my balance, but I kept swimming.
Despite the chaos, I found rhythm.
Sometimes it lasted five, six strokes. then a cross wave would steal it. but I'd find it again. The ocean wasn't punishing me, it was testing me. offering me a chance.
And then it hit me. I'm doing it. I'm out here experiencing this. not watching, not wishing. not talking about it.
Living it. About halfway through the swim, the physical challenge of the ocean gave way to a serene clarity. Each breath I took was filled with gratitude. Each movement was purposeful. and my mind was no longer cluttered with worries or doubts.
I felt intimately connected to the water. In that moment I understood how every experience, every struggle, every and every joy had led to this exact point. The ocean became a metaphor for the journey of awakening. Vast.
Sometimes turbulent. but always beautiful and full of possibility. We were out here together, not as a teacher and student. Not as a Navy swimmer and guard coach. Just two men in the water.
holding our own. Yeah. The ocean didn't care who had more experience. It cared who showed up. I wasn't just surviving.
I was swimming. Matching pace Matching presents. We passed landmarks like mile markers on a pilgrimage. The Grand Hotel Congress Hall. Convention Hall Each one a signal.
were moving. We were in it. Way off in the distance the Cape May lighthouse stood like a sentinel. Sean pointed toward it. Use that, he said.
Sight off that. and stay left of the jetties. just past the second jetty I turned for shore. I don't know how I got there so fast. Maybe the tides, maybe grace.
But there I was, turning toward land. Sean was out of sight, but that didn't matter. It was just me, the ocean. and the final strokes of his epic journey. The waves grew larger as I approached, the kind you see from the shore.
but now I was meeting them from the other side. I tried to catch one. Too big, too strong. They rolled under me, passed me, indifferent. I was a speck in their ocean.
And then... Done. I did it. Since that swim, every day feels imbued with meaning. I carry within me the lessons of the waves.
resilience, surrender, and trust. My spiritual awakening continues to evolve, but it was in the water, surrounded by nature's power and beauty, that I finally realized its depth. significance. And a terrific job on the production, editing, and storytelling by our own Monty Montgomery and Reagan Habib. And a special thanks to Scott Stewart.
And as always, Leslie Leland Fields. For doing what she does, which is get people to tell their stories. And she's been one of our best storytellers too from Kodiak Island, Alaska. and what a story we heard here. The ocean became a metaphor for my awakening.
I was not in the water holding my own. I wasn't merely surviving. I was swimming. And indeed, during that swim came a spiritual awakening, and this is why we love so many Americans, our encounters with nature. stripping away everything else.
and just leaning on God. And feeling and seeing God all around us. The story of Scott Stewart. Waves of Awakening here. on our American stories.
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