A different turn...

Usually I blog only about tugboat stuff and how our life revolves around this crazy life as a tugboat family. This post, however, is taking another turn.

 

River life is weird...and tug life is even weirder. It's a constant ebb and flow... up and down...back and forth...in and out. We are constantly trying to plan events and get-togethers around this schedule of coming home and leaving again. Even holidays like Christmas and Thanksgiving get moved around...and celebrated when we can be together.

This past weekend was no exception. For the last few years, Butch/DeckBoss's family has been organizing an informal reunion/family get together. Last year in January, we all went to a gigantic house in Blue Ridge GA. It was cold but a lot of fun! The house was in the Blue Ridge mountains and we had a lot of fun playing board games, talking, eating, and catching up on each other's lives. This year we went to Lake Wedowee in Alabama. We had 2 lake houses side by side. The lake and views were gorgeous and the weather was perfect!

We arrived late Friday night. Let me just say that calling the week before this "difficult and emotionally draining" would qualify as the understatement of the year.  Friday night on the way to the lake house, I had an asthma attack while I was driving on these mountain roads. Scariest. Thing. Ever. Luckily, it was minor and I was able to pull over into one of the 18,000,000 church parking lots around here and Butch took over driving. A few rescue inhaler puffs and I was ok. Terrified.....but ok. When we got to the beautiful lakefront home, it was about midnight. We went to our room, took a hot shower and crawled into bed.

Oh my.

Hello heaven.

What is this wonderfulness???

The bed had a memory foam topper over the mattress. The memory foam topper had a pillow top mattress topper. There was a fluffy down alternative duvet to cover with.

I swear....I slept on a cloud that night. A giant, soft, puffy, fluffy cloud from Heaven. For the first night in a really long time, I slept through the night in incredible peace and comfort. When Butch woke me for breakfast....I REALLY didn't want to move. I was cradled in comfort and peaceful warmth. But......bacon called me 😃.

After breakfast all the guys and some of the girls went to some private property owned by one of the cousins to shoot guns and blow stuff up. The rest of the girls went to Dollar General. (Hey, it's the South. It's what we do.) I stayed behind to cook chili and cornbread for dinner.

As the chili simmered, I went out on the deck. I sat in the sun and breathed. I breathed in the beauty of the blue sky and the glistening lake. I breathed in fresh mountain air. I breathed in the sound of the acorns dropping on the wood deck and the leaves blowing in the cool October breeze. And I breathed in.....the quiet.

A friend of mine posted on Facebook the other day a quote that said "The quieter you are, the more you hear" At the time, I took that to mean that if you are spending time with a person, you hear them more if you listen and don't dominate the conversation (a skill I need to practice). However, as I reflect, I think it means something else. 

Life is too loud. There are  ringtones and Facebook "dings"and TVs blaring with 1356 channels. Car doors slamming, horns  blowing, incessant chatter...Pandora and Itunes in our ear buds. Microwaves humming, smoothie makers whirring and timers beeping in the kitchen. Washers swishing and dryers tumbling...dishes clanking. It overloads and overwhelms me.

But on the deck....I HEARD for the first time in a long while. I heard water lapping, a child laughing from the other side of the lake, birds chirping, squirrels chattering, acorns falling, and the sound of my own breathing. I leaned back in the chair to absorb it all and then I heard the still, gentle voice of God within me saying "Peace....be still." I sat for the longest time in ages. I let the warm October sun shine on my face. I let my constant ADD-driven inner feeling of "I need to be doing something productive" go. I let my muscles relax and propped my feet up. I let myself "be still" and I felt His peace. 

The quieter you are, the more you can hear. I hear you God, and I'm really listening. 

"Peace......be still."

Mixed Emotions

For the past week or so I have been watching news stories and searching for updates on the Tote Maritime ship, the SS El Faro. The ship was a roll on/roll off ship that was traveling from Jacksonville FL to Puerto Rico. She departed from Jacksonville early on the morning of Sept. 30, 2015. The Captain knew there was a storm ahead, known as Tropical Storm Joaquin. In less than 2 days, the storm had become a dangerous category 4 hurricane. On the morning of October 2, the ship reported it was taking on water and listing at 15 degrees. That was the last communication. The ship was considered missing, with 33 crew members aboard. There were 28 American men and women on the crew and 5 Polish crewmen.

When the search began, there were hopes of recovering the ship and crew. After a few days of intense searching, the ship was deemed lost at sea, resting approximately 15,000 miles deep in the Caribbean Sea. The US Coast Guard called an official halt to the search for the ship and began an intense rescue operation for survivors.

Although my Merchant Mariner was at home during all this, I had a really rough time dealing with this. Let me clarify that he works a 24 mile stretch of the Savannah River and goes out as far as the sea buoy in his regular work,  and he is seldom out in open seas unless he's taking a tug to the shipyard for repairs. He was, however, in the US Navy aboard the USS Holland and the USS Essex LHD-2 and served in the Persian Gulf enforcing no-fly zones. He's been through typhoons and storms....it isn't an easy life.

However....my man was home. He was home when the ship went missing. He was home when the search changed to a rescue operation. And he was home the night of October 7, when the Coast Guard called an official end to the search for survivors.  He took it all in stride.

Me...however....
That's an entirely different story.

I was a wreck. I prayed....I hoped. I read articles and prayed some more. I prayed for the crew, the rescue teams, the families of those missing....and mariners around the world. But somehow, it just didn't seem to be enough.  My heart was heavy. My brain was spinning. My emotions were flip flopping from thankful (that my man was home) to feeling guilty (that my man was home) . The logical side of me knew that as time went on, the chances of finding survivors lessened. But my heart...oh my heart...it said that miracles happen! These were experienced mariners, with training in water survival and lifeboat use. I know they were trained in this because my husband was as well. I hoped. I prayed. I pleaded with God.

I had a hard time falling asleep. Every night as I closed my eyes I saw dark waves and tumultuous seas. I rolled over and touched my sleeping husband, grateful that he was home and safe but riddled with guilt for the wives and husbands of the El Faro crew who I knew were yearning to do the same with their spouse but were reaching out to an empty side of the bed.

I called several places in Jacksonville, trying to find a way to help by volunteering. We live just 2 hours away....couldn't I help in some way? I'm not a trained counselor or a therapist but couldn't I pour some coffee or  clean something for those working so hard? Couldn't I pick up food or supplies for the families flying in? Couldn't I rock a crying baby while a worried mother paced and prayed? I finally reached someone at Tote Maritime who told me they had plenty of volunteers and didn't need my help.

What is it inside of me that realizes the prayers on my lips are extremely important but keeps my hands wanting to DO something? I want to put boots on the ground. I want to be active. Instead, I pray. And I sing. And I hope.

At sundown on October 7, 2015, the US Coast Guard called off it's search for survivors. I think a little part of me died that day too.

Rest in peace, crew of the SS El Faro. You will not be forgotten.