"I must go down to the seas again, BACK
To the lonely sea and sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship,
And a star to steer her by”
John Masefield
Even today my imagination is fired by those opening lines from Dave Ballard's fifties KIRO radio program, Music in the Night. I've always loved the scent of salt air, the spray of ocean foam and the roll of the deck on the open sea.
Many of my best childhood memories recall afternoons alone in a sturdy wooden dory exploring the bays and inlets of the Puget Sound. On long summer days I could hitch a ride by tying up to a Foss tug bound for Seattle, Tacoma, Everett or Port Townsend. I would spend the afternoon on some distant beach and then row or putt home on the evening tide.
Most of all I love a storm. Let the deep emerald-green rollers crash and boil over the deck! I brace against the exhilarating might of the wind at my back. Turning to windward, the white-capped breakers hurl their spray against my face. Listen to the metallic roar of the rigging. Absorb the icy stare of the moon and his warrior host wrapped in inky blackness. Wonder as gale forces lash silver-white billows that cloak the heavens in their race to do battle with the horizon.
The salt sea has been a part of my life as long as I can remember.
Imagine, then, my surprise and bewilderment when my 4-year old son, my very own flesh and blood, was terror-stricken by a “delightful” little outing in our sailboat on Lake Union. Oh, it’s not as if Daniel had never been in a boat before . We had motored all through the San Juans in our 75hp Glastron. It was not even his first time in our sailboat. Well...maybe it was the first time with enough wind to really enjoy sailing. Warm sunlight spilled over us, a fair breeze filled the sails and the rigging sang.
I could not believe it. Here was my son, who couldn't take a bath without his favorite boat toy, whose third birthday had been a "boat party" in the family room with each young man captain of his own cardboard ship! Suddenly, Daniel, who loved to go fast in our outboard boat, who could spend hours in the water at the beach, was rigid with fear, howling his lungs out. Could it have been our speed as we cut through the water trailing a fine white wake? Was it the list of the craft responding to the wind? Maybe he felt too low, too close to the threatening water. I don't know. All I knew was that he was terrified, and we were not even close to shore. What's a dad to do? I did the obvious. I yelled, “Be Quiet! Everything’s fine. Relax.” THE END
Just kidding. Actually, I prayed, “Lord, HELP!” As I said those words, a fleeting feelling of the warmth and love I had known from my own father swept over me and I said,
"Daniel, do you believe that I love you?"
"Yes."
"Do you think that Daddy would do anything to hurt you?"
"No."
"Would Daddy protect you from danger?"
"Yes."
"Then, Daniel, I want you to trust me when I say I love you right now, I am taking care
of you, and you are quite safe. Do you believe me?"
"Yes, Daddy."
"OK then, stop crying."
Guess what. He did. And I was as surprised as you are. But I was at my wits end. I didn't know what else to do. So I did the only thing I could think of; I asked him to trust me.
Hmmmmmm. It occurred to me then and still tugs at my heart today, to realize that you and I have a Heavenly Father who is saying, "I love you. I brought you here. I am taking care of you. You are quite safe. Trust Me! ”
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