I could feel the food coma taking over my body. As I sat in a warm living room with the fire place and television on, another holiday meal was working its sinister effects on my body; there would be no mercy for the weak. Throughout the house the sounds of family filtered into my brain with the mix of multiple conversations going at the same time. Such a wonderful time of the year; a time to catch up and reconnect, to be thankful, at the expense of a notch on your belt. As the sweet aroma of the kitchen faded away from consciousness, I found it odd to be looking out the small porthole of a naval vessel.
Not sure why I was back in 1984 as a second class petty officer in the United States Navy, but there on a guided missile destroyer that I had been assigned, the crew was doing its best to navigate the storm. The gray sea and sky blended together and we must have looked like a drifting message in a bottle riding the agitated and breaking surface. I had been told that ships don’t do well during a storm when tied up to a dock in port, so the only safe option would be to head for open water. I see. So why then, did my grip tighten and heart skip a beat with each rise to the crest of the sea swell and decent to the bottom of the trough? At times, as much as one hundred feet between the two. There was a measure of success riding with the storm swells but also an uncertainty I couldn’t let go of; that when the forces of nature morph from the norm, the human condition is often placed in peril. As the vibrations of the twin props resonated through the ship as they breached the crest of a wave, I raced up a flight of stairs to the bridge. From the navigation viewpoint, steering the ship through the waves looked like made-for-movie special effects. Thankful for buoyancy but praying that we wouldn’t be turned sideways and risk capsizing, I was issued a new set of orders and grateful to leave the bridge. As I turned to leave, the ship descended down an enormous swell and I just stared. Looking out directly to the side was the towering wall of water, not crashing in on us, but rhythmically moving with us. It was paralyzing. And not exactly what I had envisioned the Christmas season would look like either.
An alarm was going off. I opened my eyes; it was the kitchen timer. An unsettling feeling crept over me that somehow, as full as I was, I would now have to contend with fresh made pies. I was now at high alert; with the risk of reaching a critical level of misery for the sake of the pie or heeding the warning in my stomach that it was at capacity. Hmm, a dilemma; yet immeasurably grateful for the blessing of time spent with those who mean the most.
As my little flashback had reminded me, there are many around the world during the holidays that are tasked with doing their duty. Sometimes in the spotlight, most times in obscurity; volunteers who aide disaster, organizations that provide necessary services, and our military branches that deter aggression and keep the peace. Theirs is not the comfort of a living room and fireplace when deployed. Many are God-fearing men and women who have a faith in something greater than themselves. Those that aren’t are often influenced by those that are. As we enter into this time of year, be mindful and pray regularly for the ones who are standing by for rapid response at various alert levels; they may not be immediate family but they represent serving a greater good and are in more ways than you might imagine, used by our Creator as ambassadors and agents. Scripture tells us we were made in the image of God for a journey designed to touch the lives of others. Don’t let your mission fall short of its duty. Your random actions and your availability are part of the package; believe you have something to give. And when in doubt, believe in the greatest of all resources; the key to removing the anxiety of the holidays and unlocking the joy that our Creator provides; the power of prayer.
Blessings.
“Three-minute exposure; a snapshot of life’s imperfect harmony,” by Stew McAuley.
Encouraging your Christian Worldview.
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