The ship was between ports, the sun was shining and the seas were calm, and I was having a quiet, one-on-one conversation with my mom. She had been through a lot, lately, during my father's recent hospital stay. A simple question such as how are you doing? or what are you thinking? seems inadequate when addressing the unknown. As you can imagine, it is hard to pin down a specific feeling because they all overlap—fear, hope, anger, anxiety, relief, gratitude.
Earlier that morning, my mother was sitting on deck during
her morning prayers and watching the sun dancing on the whitecaps.
“Those whitecaps are like graces,” she told me. “Sometimes
you see them, sometimes they disappear without acknowledgement, but just like
the whitecaps which are absorbed into the ocean, so are God’s graces. They are present
whether we see them or not, given to us whether we acknowledge them or not.”
God’s grace, meant to lead us to a holier life, but also there
to offer hope, encouragement, and a reminder that there is power in prayer and
that He knows each and every one of us by name.
Shortly before our family cruise, I was having a moment, the kind which involves tears and feelings of abandonment. Does God hear our prayers? How can He hear my prayers when I am but one among many? Does He see me? Can He reach out and touch me through the crowd, like the woman in the New Testament? I tried to pray my way out of that dark place, but the words would not come. Then, at that very moment my friend Thalia, who was traveling in Greece, texted me a photo of a sign that read: Maria’s Boutique Rooms.
God’s grace reminding me (in a very dramatic way) that he
knows my name.
So, sitting there with my mom, talking about whitecaps and the
timing of God’s grace, we counted our blessings. This cruise, sandwiched
between a lengthy hospital stay and upcoming cancer treatments, was something we
were not even sure would happen. There had been so many questions and no answers: Was
my father strong enough to travel? What if something happened? Should we cancel? Postpone?
But sometimes you have to live the question, so after eight days in a hospital
we relished the eight days at sea. Eight days to recover, celebrate family,
gather strength, find peace, cling to hope.
A week to feel God’s grace and know that He is, and always
will be, there for us.
Even as we face unchartered waters.
Especially then.
