Here I sit, my feet buried in the sand, a strong breeze keeping
the heat of the day away. On the horizon, just blue water to see for miles all
around. And though right here in this moment I feel comfortable and at peace, I
was anything but yesterday. You see, we had to cross those miles of water to
get from the main island to this one. On a tiny boat. Filled with too many
people. In the rain. With waves that I swear were trying to kill us.
We made it though. Somehow.
I can tell you all the thoughts that we're going through my mind
on that trip, because there honestly weren't that many. Most of it, a
continuous, mumbling and repeated prayer: "Lord, give me strength. Give me
strength. Give us strength. Help us get through this." or
"Jesus, calm the storm like you’ve done before. Command the waves to
be still. They know your voice, Jesus. They know you. They'll listen. Just tell
them to stop!" The rest of my
thoughts were funny little observations like: "If I die now, how would
anybody know?" or "Wow I lost my stomach on that one!" or
"Would they leave me if I went overboard?" or "Holy crap, I
think we cut through that wave" or "I don't know how we haven't
capsized yet!"
My time was made even worse because of several different things:
it was raining cats and dogs so in Nica fashion we held a plastic tarp over our
heads to cover us--the problem: I'm not quite sure if it was big enough and the
only thing that kept it in place was due to its human anchors beneath a.k.a.
us. And more specifically, me. I had the honor of gripping that tarp in a vice
grip that made my hands cramp, my arms shake, and soaked my entire body
(especially the exposed arms) in ocean spray and rain. On the bright side, I
think everyone else who wasn't an anchor stayed fairly dry. Second problem of
the trip: I got separated from my group since it was a mad dash to grab a seat
and we were slow on the get-go. So, I had to suffer the voyage solo. Which
maybe was a good thing given the embarrassing expression I'm sure was plastered
on my face. The final problem: I truly am scared of small boats when there is
an ever looming threat of drowning. A few summers back I had a close call that
involved a paddle boat and so now my mind jumps from PEACE to TERROR in
milliseconds when I'm in a similar situation. I don't let it keep me from
going, no way. I just freak out a little bit (cough a lot) during the trip. No
biggie. After this trip, everything else will seem like Disneyland.
So what did I learn? To boil it down: that God had me in the palm
of his hand the whole time. He did indeed stop the rain. He did indeed give me
the strength to hold onto that tarp, even when the winds threatened to rip it
out of my weak grasp. He did indeed keep us from succumbing to the ginormous
waves. Those sailors knew their boat, they knew the sea, they knew the waves.
If I was driving, well, that would be a whole different story that I'm sure
would end in either a tragedy or a miracle. In all, I learned that through my
fear I can rely on God to carry me. I
can put all my faith in him to keep me safe. I know it sounds a bit
melodramatic but I truly believe God guided our little boat that day. And I am
so glad he did.
Now, I have the return trip to look forward to. I feel slightly
more confident this time, kind of like the idiot who goes bungee jumping a
second time. A stupid confidence maybe.
But I know that God will guide us. And I'm going to find a better seat this
time around.
Next week, instead of warm sand that hugs my toes, it will be icy
cold snow that envelops my well-guarded feet. And though I may not know the
exact manner of adventure I will find between here and there, I know that I can
go in the confidence in God that he will get me there! Somehow.
Stay tuned!
