This week I have the privilege of traveling to our nation’s 49th state. Alaska. That land that calls on the adventurer and those who long for the wild places that still just might exist. Some place. This has been a much anticipated trip and much has gone into its planning and I feel blessed at the gift of it all. We are making this journey by cruise ship, a kind of travel new to us, one I also have to admit to being a bit apprehensive to do. I had wondered if I would feel claustrophobic in the small spaces and the inability to get off the ship when I wanted. I wondered if I would be concerned about the vast quantities of food that I’d heard would be available at all times. I felt a certain amount of good, Protestant guilt at the excess of it. For the most part, not much of this has proved true for which I am grateful.

I was able to get over all these emotional triggers because of something that happened before we ever left the port of Seattle. It came in the form of a mandatory meeting of all those on the ship to gather for a practice drill to prepare us for any water emergency that might happen. We did this by gathering in our ‘Muster Stations’. This was a new term for me. Muster. I had heard of being able to ‘muster’ enough energy to do something or ‘muster’ the courage to complete a frightening task. But in this situation our Muster Station was the place we were to gather, another definition for muster, in case of an emergency. Muster…….to gather. We were to rest there and we were to bring our life jackets.

So here we were, hundreds of people gathered, mustered, into the theater. We sat with our life jackets, a sea of orange flotation devices held on the laps of people from all over the world. We listened attentively as the earnest crew explained what signals we would hear in case of one of these emergencies, events which were now filling the minds of every person present. After all we had all read the papers lately and knew of fires, crashes, and various other incidents that can happen on cruise ships of all kinds. It was impossible not to pay attention to these accounts given this looming trip. Though we would later learn the playfulness of the crew, right now they were all business.

At the appointed time, we were given the instructions as to how to don our life jackets and how to make our way into the water if that became necessary. ” With one hand, hold your nose and put your hand over your mouth. Take the other arm and extend it over the front of your life jacket to hold it in place. Step….do not jump.” It all sounded simple enough. In the safety of my theater seat. The orange whistle I could blow…..which hand should I use?….. to signal someone coming to the rescue, hung at my side.

That’s when I turned around and looked at all the people, all shapes and sizes, all nationalities, standing in their brilliant orange life jackets. Here we were, the fragile, vulnerable ones who walk upright. We stood in orange at this moment planning for an emergency we hoped would never happen. But most of the time we all walk around with the hope that an imaginary life jacket of some kind keeps us in safety. As I looked at us all, I thought of the wisdom of what can keep us safe: sticking together, walking in community, leaning of the strength and skills of the other. I was now counting on these strangers to be my traveling partners in a deeper way. It also helps to have practiced…..covering what needs to be covered, knowing when to blow the whistle, remembering how things work. And most of the time it makes sense to step gently and resist the urge to jump into whatever open water presents itself, literal or otherwise.

Last night I sat and watched as dancers and singers entertained us in what may have looked like a theater but which I knew was the place I would go if mustering was required. And the fact is, mustering is always required in one form or another. Most of the time our life jackets are invisible.

Other times, we are all wearing orange.