Tuesday With Teri

          Good Day!  As I write this I am sitting on boat on a small island in the Bahamas called Elbow Cay.  On one side of the island the Atlantic is raging.  Waves are crashing and spraying against the sea rocks and beach.  On the other side is the Sea of Abaco.  We are currently tied up in a marina nestled in a protected harbor between the two.  Yep, I’m in the middle of my husband’s dream vacation.   We are bareboat chartering in the Bahamas, which means it is just us, a 37ft. Trawler named “Semper Fi”, and the Abaco Sea.

          Our first day underway was a pretty crazy experience.  High winds and rough water kept most charter boats at the dock until late in the day.  We eventually left with the intent of staying in the protective cove of Settlement Harbour.  When we arrived, the expected moorings, anchored floats boats tie up to in harbors, were not to be found.  The sketchy weather had forced an overload of boats into Settlement Harbour. 

          The sun was quickly sliding behind the horizon and we soon found ourselves stuck between a rock and a hard place, literally.  The local marina had closed for the night and without sufficient daylight we did not have time to make the next marina/harbor down the island.  We were getting rocked quite a bit and trying to fend off panic when a voice crackled over the radio.  The captain of the boat “Reflections” hailed us to let us know the marina was closed, but that anchoring in the harbors’ entrance was both safe and acceptable.  So, following his advice, we dropped anchor just off the rocky cliffs on the North side of the harbor entrance.  Behind us, a rather uncomfortable distance of 50yds, were the rock jetties which protected the south side of the marina.  With our anchor set and the recommended 100yrds. Of chain laid out with it, we tried to settle in for our first night.

          It was difficult to relax.   Visions of drifting into the cliffs, jetties, or other moored boats kept running through our minds.  We had dinner, played cards, admired the magnificent star filled sky, but all the while monitoring our position.  We were told by the charter staff that once we set anchor we could trust it to hold. “Once it’s down, pick a point on shore, if you don’t drift, you’re not going to drift at all.  It will hold.”

          Falling asleep that night to the rocking and banging of the boat was not too difficult when I remembered those words, but then I would startle awake and find myself peering through a porthole for proof we had not drifted into danger.  It was a long and restless night.

          Sure enough, when morning came, the sun rose and our anchor held.  There we were safely secured between a rock and a hard place.  I couldn’t stop the onslaught of numerous melodies that ran through my mind that next day, hymns and songs of praise which refer to our God as our anchor.    How often do I deprive myself of the peace He affords me, by not trusting Him to securely hold me between rocks and hard places?

 (Mom, if you’re reading this, we are doing fine and are perfectly safe!   No worries!  Love you and hope to post a journal soon on a separate blog of all our adventures!)