My husband loves to sail. I love my husband. Therefore, even though it freaks me out and sends me way out of my comfort zone, I sail on his catamaran with him. Good wifey, hey? I admit to being a fair-weather sailor, but that’s only because we’ve had a few hairy moments out on the lake. I’ve been a guinea pig for his sailing learning curve, but what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger!
Last year in Jamaica, Lyndon and I went out on a catamaran with the resort sailor, and we had a wonderful time- the conditions were perfect, and I was relaxed and at one with the experience. A romantic sail gliding across the Caribbean- no problem, mon!
So this year, when the opportunity presented itself, we jumped at the chance again. However, I had a sneaking suspicion that the waves looked a little choppier than before, but I donned my life jacket, and even smiled for the camera:
So with Lyndon and the Jamaican sailor on the opposite side to me, the catamaran briskly set sail into the deep blue yonder. And I mean briskly. Before I knew what was happening, we were way out there being buffeted to bits by breaking waves. As those breakers washed over me and I clung for sheer life to the boat strap, I glanced over at Lyndon. There before me was a man in his element- his face shone with excitement, he was guffawing his signature laugh, and he was bone dry! Clearly, I was seated on the “wrong” side of the boat and took the brunt of nature’s wrath. Typical. Lyndon would have reveled in the drowning sensation, but I was petrified.Here’s my death grip:
Oh, you couldn’t have pried that apart with anything. It was my lifeline, it was keeping me on my boat, and every ounce of my strength was centered right there. I prayed like a crazy woman (in my head, so I didn’t freak out the lovely Jamaican sailor) and in minutes we turned around, and all was calm again. I MIGHT have given my husband a filthy look- him being so dry and happy and all, but truly, I was grateful for the ordeal to be over. The sail back to shore was smooth, but I was left feeling somewhat battered from my adventure in the ocean.
I am well aware that my fear was unfounded- the catamaran would not have capsized, and even if it had, I would most certainly have been rescued. But I have an irrational fear of drowning, and out in the deep, I’m literally out of my depth.
We all have fears, some crazier than others, but when the collywobbles strike, where do we turn? Jesus was literally first on my list, probably because I thought I’d be meeting him imminently. That nylon strap might have been my physical lifeline, but He was my spiritual one. In those seconds of deepest fear, I thought of the time when He calmed the tumultuous storm, simply with his words. I was reminded that He is ultimately in control, and that His perfect love drives out fear. Even my fear.
Needless to say, I survived the sail, and I’ll be back on that horse/ catamaran again this summer, facing my fears, and cheering my sailor husband on. And praying for a nice calm, slow breeze…
