What a difference a day makes!
As I shared on yesterday’s devotional, we’d fished nearly 10 hours on the open sea that was as calm as a glistening swimming pool. We dumped all the shark back into the water for their siblings to munch upon and headed to Montauk, New York and docked for the night. We walked up and down that fancy pier with all those yachts and humongous boats. Our lives were such a contrast. We stopped at one gorgeous boat where a fisherman sat drinking his beverage of choice. He had these big fancy fishing chairs attached to his boat and a bevy of equipment nearby. On his jig hung a sand shark measuring about 18 inches. My husband’s boss couldn’t resist. “Did he give you a fight?”
With a grin the size of a quarter-moon, the man replied, “”Yes sir, he did.”
The laughter we held in our guts till we made it out of earshot, almost busted mine wide open. His catch-of-the-day was about the size of the bait we used to catch our 15 sharks. I’ve really come to appreciate that memory. Especially in light of the next day’s events.
Sometime in the night, we awoke to thunder, lightning, and winds that nearly rocked me out of the little bunk I was hanging onto. Just before dawn, Ron–my husband’s boss and captain of our 31-foot Pacemaker, went out to check whoever it is you check with about sailing and boating conditions. The storm was still raging. Rains came down in sheets, not drops.
Ron came back in drenched as a newborn kitten, dripping sheets, not drops. “Small craft warnings all the way back to Norwich,” he informed us. I didnt have a clue what that meant. So I asked and wished I hadn’t. It meant we are not to go out on the ocean. Ever seen The Perfect Storm? Well, if you have, hold that thought.
Ron, being the 29 year-old ego-driven man he was, decided we’d take off at daybreak if the rain let up a bit. It did. It went from sheets to drops the size of baseballs. (see why I emphasized drops so much?)
Ron’s wife and I were to stay below. The men went up on the little nest up top of the boat to steer. They were in the wide open rain, mind you. Nothing covering their heads. Once we were out on the ocean, the chicken soup I had for breakfast decided it no longer wanted to live in my stomach. I had to go outside, I couldn’t stand it below. I stood on the side of the boat where the day before I’d stood casting chum over the side. And if it wasn’t for the fact that I lived to tell you about this, I would have sworn I lost my insides. Seasick was an understatement.
As I stood there, emptying the contents of my stomach, our tiny boat road the swells. Up and down we went. Up, I could see gigantic waves for what seemed miles. I was right. Over 50 from shore. Down, and I saw a black wall that seemed like it was going to swallow the boat. And it could have, they were 40 to 50-foot swells. But Ron was master of his sea.
Over thirty miles out we tried to raise the coastguard because we lost an engine. Ron came down from the perch and left my husband at the helm. Ron laughed when he saw my dilemma. “Sick?” I could have killed him. He played with the engine and finally said, “Ain’t gonna start. We’ll have to make it on one.”
I didn’t have a clue what that meant, and to be honest I really didn’t care. I was simply too sick. So I hung over the side of the boat and watched the waves tower over us then rise to the top of it and gazed at the endless shards of water beyond. I wanted that big black wave to eat me. I was so very very sick. I really didn’t care. But I suppose God did, because I’m here telling you about it today. It’s a good thing He cared more than me, because I wasn’t saved for eternity at that time. But God saved me for a day so I’d someday be saved for an eternity.
It took nearly 8 hours to make it back to Norwich, Connecticut which should have taken about 2 or 3 at most. When we were about 10 miles out, we ran into fog as thick as pea soup. We were hoping we wouldn’t run a-ground. We didn’t have any depth-finders and relied only on an occasional sound of a bouy bell. But the rains were no more and my stomach had calmed down. I’d joined the men at the perch. My husband put his arm around me and life was good.
“Praise the Lord! Praise the Lord from the heavens, praise Him in the heights! Praise Him, sun and moon, praise Him, all you stars of light! You lightning, hail, fog, and frost, you stormy and wind fulfilling His orders!” Psalm 148:1,3,8.
Since I was nineteen years-old, I’ve told that story to my children and grandchildren. To this day I stand amazed that the four of us lived to tell it. And I do believe the reason was because God wanted me here for this moment in time and the over 31 years I’ve served Him in grateful adoration. Indeed, His “stormy wind fulfilling His orders” brought us safely ashore. selahV
[copyrighted, SelahV Today, 2008]
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