A Shared Storm

"God has not been trying an experiment on my faith or love in order to find out their quality.  He knew it already.  It was I who didn't."--C. S. Lews, A Grief Observed

I read and re-read Lewis' words.  Once I get past the agonzing howl of the first chapters (necessary as the howling is) then I can hear some of my own experience.  I think about what I wrote in Anne's Carepages.  The words arrived, uninvited, uncrafted, unrefined.  Up to that moment I don't think I really had an appreciation of the depth of my passion and appreciation for my sweet Annie.  It was in those searing moments facing death together that I received a deep clarity about our love, and how that love had always rested so deeply in Christ's love for us.

I am thinking this morning about a foolish adventure we had together--another time that we faced death together.  We were fishing a large Canadian lake.  The wind had blown a gale for two days, rendering anything other than short trips in our own bay impossible.  The clock was ticking on my precious vacation time and we were imprisoned in a camper with nothing to do.  The wind went down a bit the third morning.  I looked across the bay and said, "It looks a little better."  So off we went.

It was not a little better.  If anything it was worse.  On big water there comes a point where one has gone too far to turn back.  The waves were running 5 to 8 feet.  A turn would have been disastrous.  So for 45 minutes I guided the boat at a slight angle up one side of the wave, turned at the crest, and then at a slight angle down the other side.  My poor family huddled in the front of the boat, white with fear.  I thought to myself, "I shall certainly go to Hell for doing this to the people I love."

Then we arrived in a quiet bay and spent the day fishing, drying clothes, walking on shore and living in sheer joy.  Toward sundown the wind did truly subside and we came back to our camper.  The trip was utter foolishness.  But the outcome was exhiliration.  Somehow Anne and I had faced death together and come out on the other side in triumph.  It was a magnificently shared triumph.  We had to exercise some creativity to find a quiet and secret place for the giddy and victorious lovemaking of that night.

We faced death together--I with my hand on the tiller, Anne looking back at me with determination and such courage, and a measure of trust that in retrospect seems not quite justified.  I see myself at the foot of her hospital bed as she faces me, and for a moment I can see the waves buffet our little boat and feel the spray on my face.  Somehow, sweetheart, it feels like we took that trip again.  The storm is now over for you, I hope.  For a while I'll run the boat by myself, and the waves are challenging.  But I know that the storm revealed our love more than it threatened our lives.

Such interesting points of gratitude in this life.