Sometimes we wonder if we own our big boat or if it owns us.
See that bright red/orange blob? We’re right in the middle of it.
Take hurricane preparedness. Yesterday, the weather gurus still couldn’t say how far off Hurricane Sandy would be, but they guaranteed we’d have surges and wind–oh, and rain. Lots of rain. So, it was off to the marina to lash down, take off, double-up on the already doubled-up lines.
We’re trusting that this dock will handle the storm better than our last one did in 2011. And, of course, we’re praying that the storm takes a right turn and not a left turn in the next few days. The Northeast doesn’t need more devastation either.
We can prepare for hurricanes–at least somewhat. But what about the other storms in life? What about illness, death, betrayal? How do you get ready for the bad things that are bound to come knocking someday?
Are you ready? If not, do you think anyone can prepare for those worst-case scenarios?
And what would you consider the worst thing that could happen to you?
I’d really like to know. I’m the sort who takes comfort in being as prepared as possible. And having done all, I stand. What about you?
Wishing you well!!!
I think all we can do is prepare for the worst and hang on. We weathered a hurrican in Pagp Pagp. It flattened some low-lying islands nearby, but we made it through. What’s interesting to me in the rising sense of excitement I feel in gathering storms, despite the concern about our safety. Perhaps all that wild beauty in the clouds, the wind, the waves. Perhaps just human nature, the adrenaline pumping, the excitement that comes when pitting ourselves against a mighty foe. Although I believe to truly enjoy the eperience we must have an underlying confidence that we will survive it. Otherwise–pure terror.
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I’m with you, Deborah. I remember being anchored out at Cape Lookout in a smallish boat when a storm hit. My husband and babies were asleep below. The only other boat in the anchorage was a big Coast Guard cutter, which headed to sea as the show began. There I was, on deck, alone with the wind and the lightning flashes illuminating the sky. It was glorious.
The terror definitely came my way during our first trip from CA to Mexico when we too far out and SV’s nose looked like it was going straight down that wave. All I could do was cry aloud, “Up, up!” as if my shouts would do the trick. But once I discovered that she could handle the down and then the up, that the scuppers drained that huge influx of water that waves washed the fifty feet back to the cockpit, I just held on and had some quieting conversations with God.
I confess I spent a night trying to capture a very elusive peace when I discovered that Michael, SV, and a green crew had lost steering and were pointed to Tahiti instead of to Panama. The thought of losing him nearly had me doubled over as I prayed harder than I ever had before.
Humanity is limited in scope for the huge and the small. We trudge through the doable, falter at the over-our-heads, and crash land in the tragic. Through it all, we who know Him look to the Lord because only He heals, restores, revives, and comforts. Oh we try, and sometimes some of us do a very good job at surviving and being strong and helpful, but we all have our breaking points and without relying on something, someOne greater than ourselves, what do we really gain? Cynicism, a false sense of self-reliance? Or the truth-telling sense of our utter helplessness . . .
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Our only rest is in Him, isn’t it, Nicole? Utterly helpless? In the long run, absolutely.
I hope you are prepared to weather the storm Normandie. After all the hard work I’d hate to see something happen when you’re moored at the dock. As for life and all it’s problems, in most cases they can be weathered too. Preparedness is often the key as you say but on some occasions I don’t think it helps a jot.
If you remember my last post, it was suggested that being prepared by having my questions as to the length of time Ju and I have left won’t help at all so I should no longer ask. To be honest I think I asked not especially wanting to know the answer, but to be seen as participating. The reason I say this now is because I think I’ve come to terms with the fact I’m in denial anyway. If I refuse to accept the fact she’s dying then it can’t happen.
If I encourage her out to eat or to treat her to some new clothes it’s because I won’t see her at home in any discomfort and we’re just two normal people out shopping. It may be hard on the wardrobes of course but hey, who cares?
So, No, I’m not ready for a worst case scenario and don’t know how ready someone can be though I faced it with my parents and it felt different.
The worst thing that could happen to me? Well that’s easy, losing Julia, it’s just the results of that I can’t predict with regards to myself. Will I handle it? No, because I refuse to let it happen.
My fingers are crossed that Sandy just waves in the distance as she veers away and leaves you unscathed. My very best to you both as always.
I know, David. I know. That’s exactly the worst case. That and the thought of losing a child. Which, of course, is why I was such a basket case when Sea Venture went out of control in a stormy Pacific and I wasn’t there to know that she and Michael would be okay.
It’s the crises such as the one you and Julia are facing that throw me to my knees. I send you both all the hugs I can via long distance, because I think the only way we can face those incredible storms is by having other shoulders on which to lean. I pray for you both. And I’m holding on to the hem of His garment for you. Which is pretty much all anyone can do, isn’t it? Because I can’t take the pain from you–I can only send love your way.
I Love the way you ended this post! And after we’ve done everything, to stand! I’ll be praying for you!
Living in North Texas, the closest we’ve been to a big storm is waving at the beautiful cloud bands of Rita as she traveled to our east. I know how we prepare for tornadic storms approaching, but how do you prepare for a long-lasting hurricane like this? Especially on a boat?
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I think Sandy will pass far enough away that we won’t see worse than the predicted 60-65 in gusts, which of course is nothing to sneeze at, but is nothing like it could be if she center-punched us, Marji. In SF Bay, I was on SV during a winter storm that brought 70 knot winds over the stern. Other boats on the dock broke loose, but my darling Michael had her so well tied that she did fine.
Last year, Irene hit here directly, but she was only a category 1 hurricane and SV was on the hard. We have friends who always stay on their boat at anchor, leaving the dock so they don’t have any hard bits to chew theirs up if she breaks loose. We’ll pray for them and for SV.
Good luck! We just did that here – south of Daytona – water was over our finger pier – tides too high to even get off/on the boat. Took down Bimini, lashed the main, added extra lines. Not like when I was in the Caribbean and pulled the anchor days before and got out of the way – changed the neighborhood.
As for other storms in life, unless you insulate yourself against them, you’ll have to take them as they come. And they’re bound to come, just enjoy what you have before that happens. To insulate yourself, you’d end up not experiencing life to it’s fullest. Enjoy while you can!
Betty, don’t you wish you could still change the neighborhood–any neighborhood, physical or emotional–when the going gets rough? I’m sure cruising the Caribbean was much like cruising the Sea of Cortez–you follow the loop based on the seasons and try to make sure that hurricanes don’t catch you in the wrong neck of the sea.
You’ll certainly understand the lure of going better than many. Folk often wonder how we could live on a boat so far from civilization, at the mercy of the weather, oh, and pirates! (Not that we ever saw any of those, except at marinas in the States where light-fingered types continue to imagine that if we own something, they have a right to it instead. In CA, someone decided to make off with some teak lazarette doors, and here in NC, our drills looked particularly appealing.) But as you’ve stated in your last paragraph, if we don’t go out there, whether onto the sea or into some other place that seems risky (emotionally or physically), we may miss out on the things that will form us and change us and perhaps help us grow into all we can be.
Yes, the hurricane season dictated where in the island chain we would be during that season. Even though I was usually in a safe zone, I had to pick up and move when Ivan came toward Grenada. Thank goodness I did, or I would have lost everything.
You are so right about understanding the lure of cruising – it’s like a disease, the call of the ocean is louder now than when I was first planning to go in the beginning. Only people who have been (or are out there) and love it are the ones who understand. The rest of the world thinks we’re a little bit off. 🙂
Sorry you’ve been pirated, but it could have been worse. There is always someone ready to snag something at an opportune moment.. I had some anxious moments, local fishing boats coming alongside late at night and footsteps on deck in a marina a couple times. Turned out to be harmless, but I’m sure their intentions were not if circumstances were different.
As the only pirates we saw were thieves at dock in the US, we’re now a lot more cautious about locking up than we ever needed to be in the Sea of Cortez, Mexico. But, there you are.
We long to go back out. What about you? Do you plan to cruise again soon?
No matter how prepared I try to be, God makes it clear He is the only constant I will ever have. So while I try to exercise responsible ownership, I work hardest at preparing my attitude. Some things will be lost no matter what, and afterward all you have is what you carry within you.
You always have such wonderful, thought-provoking posts, Normandie. <3
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Thank you, Denise! I absolutely love the scriptural admonition, “Having done all, stand.” But I think it goes hand in hand with Job’s words, “Yet though He slay me, still will I trust Him.” When the going has gotten rough and I’ve felt slammed against the wall, that’s the place where I stand. In Him. Thanks for stating it so well. What we carry with us must be a heart changed by God.
Thank you, Normandie. I love that word “stand.” You have used it before, and it evokes such an image in my mind that I immediately feel fortified and relieved. 🙂
It does, doesn’t it? I visualize it often. Okay, God, I’ve done all I could, now I’m standing and trusting!