Day 26 - July 11 - The Sailor

Ever since I wrote the last blog, I've been thinking about the final line. It sounds so spiritual, it almost makes me retch. I mean, c'mon - "make sure you keep your eye on The Sailor instead of the waves" sounds like something out of one of those cheesy inspirational movies you see on late-night TV. Yet at the same time, there's this eternal truth hidden in it that just keeps coming back to my mind.

We've had a pretty good day today. Connor is stable, his heart rate remains solid, the RT says his lungs sound good, he is still off the pacemaker, and it looks like the nerve issue with his heart during trach cleanings is clearing up - all good things. More good things outside of the CCU include the extraordinarily gracious repair of our RV, the locating of a place to park it (that even has a shade tree!), and some much-appreciated gifts that have blessed our socks off this afternoon. So we continue to sit and wait. and as I've sat and waited, I've been pondering why it's so easy to be terrified by the troughs of the waves, until you realize that your only hope is in the hands of the Master Sailor, but then as soon as you crest out onto the top of the wave, you take your eyes off Him and say "wow, what a nice view!"

So many times, I am terrified by the looming waves towering over my head. I scream out my horror, pleading to be saved from the impending disaster I, an unskilled landsman, see bearing down on me. Then, at the last moment, the ship somehow staggers out of the wind-torn trough and is momentarily poised high above the froth. At that instant, instead of pondering the skill of the captain, I look around for a moment and think "Oooh, look how pretty it is from up here!" Then suddenly the ship plunges back into the abyss, slipping downward as the next behemoth swells upward toward us.

Why is it that I am so fascinated by the movement of the waves, even when they terrify me? Why do I have so much energy to waste on observing and reacting to the wind-wracked surface, yet have no strength to notice the skill it takes to sail this sea? Why is it that the only attention I can spare from the allure of the storm is either a briefly muttered "thanks" to the sailor who is guiding the ship, or else a selfish demand to be taken somewhere else? How can I forget how much this passenger on the ship owes to the Captain who safely guides the vessel over each wave, around each rock, and (eventually) safely into harbor and up to the pier?

I owe so much to my Captain, and yet I rarely recognize or acknowledge His skill - skill at sailing, at navigation, at provisioning, and charting the route, not to mention the fact that He also built the ship. It amazes me that I can so easily identify the truth of this, while at the same time not be able to remember it more than about 15 minutes.

How do I glorify God when I can't even remember what He does for me? Why do I need to be reminded about the most amazing things He does? And why, as soon as I forget His working, am I suddenly convinced that He will not be faithful who has always proved faithful before? What would it be like if, instead of watching the storm, I watched the Sailor who knows how to sail? What would the journey be like that way? Can I even attempt to discipline myself to ignore the storm? It seems I'm too busy scrambling around the deck to be bothered to pay attention to the secure confidence He exudes.

And all the while, the Master stands securely at the helm as the storm rages on.