Battleship

The absolute worst sleep I ever got was in one of the most fascinating places I ever slept. Battleship Texas was built in 1917 and served in the United States Navy for many years, including World War II.

My grandfather, who my oldest child is named after, served in the Navy during WWII. I quickly signed up as a chaperone when his Cub Scout troop visited and slept on Battleship Texas.

War is ugly, but I am very fascinated by history. I was excited about this trip. Too excited to fully appreciate the warning signs. Inside the metal ship, everything was extra loud. It was warm. The tour guides mentioned many, many times, “When we remove the crossway from the ship, there is no exiting the ship until morning.”

The tour took us all over the ship. We sat behind the huge guns and viewed the monster engines. We looked at the officers’ quarters. Then we saw our “accommodations.” I can sleep anywhere. Well, I could up until then. This was the ultimate test.

The ship was docked just outside of Houston. It was a wet, sticky hot outside, and worse inside. The air was stale. The belly of this beast smelled its age. The beds were bunk beds, held by chains from the ceiling to the bottom bunk. Four metal frame beds folded down per stack, and the room was filled with so many stacks. All 40-something people were corralled into this dank, chain-clanging room.

I got a top bunk. I had a steam pipe running over my bed. I had to slide under the pipe to get into bed. I couldn’t lay on my side because my shoulder would touch the pipe. Every movement from the kids below me shook the whole column of beds.

This cocktail of misery rattled me. Between sessions of complaining thoughts, I weighed my escape options. The boys got restless and loud. I checked the time. It was only midnight. The crossway didn’t reopen until 7. Maybe I could swim back? I’d probably not survive the jump from the deck.

I checked my watch again. My stupid watch had taken the ship’s side in a new battle. The mission: create and sustain misery. I was so hot. I was tired, but I couldn’t sleep. It was too loud. I couldn’t roll over. The more I dwelled on these thoughts, the less I could calm down.

Deep breath. I thought ahead. What if I could picture being on the other side of this? I focused on the next day. I know I would be excited to have this incredible experience with my oldest child. I took many deep breaths. I paid attention to them. I stopped thinking about time. I stopped thinking about the misery.

I just appreciated what I could in that moment. Sometimes, my thoughts are really unhelpful. Sometimes, focusing on what is going wrong causes me to miss what is going right.

What does the other side of this look like? Is what I am doing helping or harming? Can I pause to find the things to appreciate?

Be curious, be kind, be whole, do good things.