How could running out of gas end up filling me to overflowing, Lord???
We had everything we needed yesterday… or so we thought. A beautiful day. A favorite get-away. A heart for adventure! A bait bucket full of live shrimp. A stash of cold waters. A tube of sun block. A couple of wide-brimmed hats. A navigation chart. A First Mate adept at reading navigation charts. A brand new gas gauge. A tank at least half full…
Wait a minute… A brand new gas gauge? Untested? Unfamiliar? 400-101 vce Yes. And, as it turns out… unreliable.
Funny thing about gas tanks. No grey area. You either have gas, or you don’t. We did… and then, suddenly, we didn’t. Of course, by then we were miles away from our destination — our favorite little “boatel” room, right next to a canal on Pine Island. There we sat — or, more accurately, floated. On a Wednesday during the “off” season, when boats were few and far between. Just the way we like it… normally. But then, yesterday was anything but normal.
So why weren’t we upset, Lord? How did the rest of the day become the “best part” — the adventure we hadn’t planned? How did the memories made after we shut off our empty motor become our most favorite?
We never were really “stranded”… were we, Lord? It became clear almost immediately that we were surrounded… by You. Like that gentle wind that kicked up behind us, pushing us ever-so-gently in the direction we needed to go. And that bimini we had for sun protection. Yesterday, it became a modified sail — rigged to catch the wind, just so… helping us along. Rocking us to and fro, as if the whole bay had suddenly become a giant cradle made just for us.
And it was so quiet. In the midst of a typical day, I can almost feel my ears — my sense of hearing — drawing back, as if in self-defense against the onslaught of noise overload. But yesterday, in the relative silence, my ears were almost reaching out — honing their ability to pick up even the softest sounds in the midst of the expansive silence.
It was quiet enough to hear countless birds that would otherwise have been drowned out by the motor’s roar. Like the nearby ospreys guarding their nests.
Two nests. Two mothers. Each atop several hatched babies. All of them hungry. A lone male flying in with a fish in his talons — a fish almost as big as he was. He landed on a nearby tree limb. He and his mate looked at each other. He looked down at the fish, then back at her. She wasted no time telling him, in no certain terms, that she and the babies were ready for that meal. I guess he said, “Don’t hold your breath” because he proceeded to eat the whole fish himself! Go figure. 🙂
It was quiet enough to almost miss the six-foot shark that swam by our boat, just under the surface of the water. Paying us no attention. On his way somewhere. Disturbing no one. Gliding by effortlessly, powerfully.
After two hours of drifting slowly with the breeze — yep, two hours — we entered the small channel that would lead us to our “home away from home.” Eventually, another boat came by heading in our direction. They kindly offered us a tow. Of course they did. You sent them… didn’t You, Abba? 🙂 They towed us to their house (on another canal nearby), then drove us to the marina to get enough gas so we could partially quench our boat’s thirst and make it back to our place.
By the time we did and unloaded all of our gear,EX200 vce we had gas in our boat but we were “out of gas” physically. Our energy completely depleted from the long day in the sun. Tired. Hitting The Wall. Empty… but FULL!!!
How do You do it, Lord??? I’m so glad You do!!! Don’t ever stop!!!
“The Lord is my shepherd, I lack nothing. He makes me lie down in green pastures, He leads me [amid] quiet waters, He refreshes my soul.” (Psalm 23:1-2)