26/7/24: Heat shields.
When the space shuttle Columbia entered earth’s orbit on 1st of February 2003, everything seemed to be on track.
This wasn’t the first time a space shuttle was re-entering the planet. Discovery, Atlantis, Endeavour, they’d all done it. Even Columbia had done it successfully before. There was no reason to worry.
And then, in the blink of an eye, Columbia was gone. The earth’s atmosphere obliterated it in seconds, and no one survived.
The postmortem revealed that the flaw had developed at launch; a tiny piece of foam had created an even tinier crack in the heat shield. And then, Columbia had carried this wound — to space. Over the next sixteen days, everything flowed seamlessly. The biology experiments worked, the frog embryos grew, the crew slept and joked around. All unaware that there was a hairline beneath them that would ultimately consume them.
My mind is a strange place, because this week it thought of Columbia quite a whole lot. And as Monday turned to Friday, I’d become Columbia myself.
I thought about all the hairline cracks I’ve carried without knowing over the years. I also thought about which one of them would ultimately become my achilles heel. All of this is quite a chicken and egg exercise — because you don’t see the cracks to begin with, let alone predict which ones are dangerous.
As I close out this week, I realise that this is perhaps what being humbled looks like.
I’ve always believed that I had a sturdy heat shield. I’ve loved intensity, and I’ve loved powering through obstacles — almost enjoying it. But the thing with heat shields is that you can get carried away with them sometimes. The thicker you make them, the more you abuse them.
And at some point, adding layer upon layer doesn’t work, because when a hairline crack opens up, no amount of layers help.
Heat shields are sensitive little things, for both people and space shuttles.
And the time to tend to them isn’t in the middle of a demanding battle with heat.
It’s on the ground, on the dock; on a cool night. Away from the action and the spotlight.
A prayer for a friend:
Dear God,
Thank you for showing me the value of friendship, and thank you for bringing him into my life all those years ago.
Over the next few days, help me communicate, and help me love him while making a decision that can help us heal. I’ve struggled to maintain friendships outside of work; help me tend to this one and nurture it through the wound I’ve put it through.