The strong winds are driving the angry surf against the shoreline as I sit in the compound waiting for a late ferry.  Memories of my life on Grand Manan Island remind me that late-fall crossings are absolutely unpredictable.  I am not in control.

My stomach does a little flip at the thought of 90 minutes at the mercy of the an easterly wind on the Bay of Fundy.  Terra firma will soon be surrendered to the old man of the sea and he seems a bit agitated today . . . to say the least.

I don’t do “rough” very well.  That may be a general life statement as I think about it.  I’d like to tell you differently but I can’t.  I sail calm seas with enviable expertise . . . like most everyone else but the storms . . . well . . . they turn me into a confirmed land lubber.

Spiritually speaking it is exactly the same.  I am one of the world’s saintliest people when the winds are favorable or non-existent.  In the storms of life I panic and look for the motion sickness bags.  I may be exaggerating just a bit because I have sailed in a few storms lately.  They actually have connected me to to God in a greater way than I have ever known before.  I still don’t enjoy the storms but I hunger for the Presence that I know when the dark clouds move in.

He is real.

Sitting beside me are 2 ham sandwiches that my mother sent along in case I get hungry.  Today’s crossing is going to be different.  I haven’t faced an “easterly” in decades.  I am a different person than I was decades ago.  I am going to eat those sandwiches on that pitching rolling trip today and I am going to keep them down.  If you have ever been sea sick, you know that this sounds stupid.  Ask me how I make out.  I think I am better able to face today’s storms than I was to face yesterday’s.  That’s the way it works.  The only way to get sea-legs is on the sea . . . in the storm.