Yesterday, we took one last run in a friend’s boat, taking it up the coast, under the Gloucester bridges, through the Annisquam River and down to Essex through the inlet where it will go into dry dock for the winter. It was freezing cold but the light was extraordinary, the colors vibrant and everything beautiful about the North Shore was fully revealed. The dunes at Crane’s were gorgeous in the afternoon shadows. Hog Island and the Essex marshes were, simply, exquisite. We were alone on the water, something unheard of in the summer, to enjoy this abundance and peace.
The channel marker to the entrance of the Essex River was submerged and we missed it, finding ourselves in less than 2 feet of water very suddenly, skimming over the sand bar across from Wingaersheek Beach. Thinking we would go aground, we stopped the engines and, in the silence, felt helpless and a bit foolish as we contemplated what it would take to jump into the 53 degree water and push ourselves off if we hit bottom. In this moment of uncertainty, we realized we were uncharacteristically but woefully underprepared for this trip: no chart, no oars and twin engines with equalizer problems. The channel was in a completely different place from the last time, two years ago, we had navigated this stretch of beach. Maybe it was the light, or the beauty or our fear, but we were all very quiet and calm. And then, a gentle breeze lifted up, riffled the water and we drifted unharmed across the bar, missing the shoals and straight into the deep water of the channel.
Without charts and a mis-firing GPS, we talked to each other, making suggestions, looking for the next mark, and then the next, feeling our way through the Essex River channel. We sighted a seal, which seemed to point us to the correct direction, avoiding the next sand bar. There were cormorants, ducks and egrets flying everywhere. Just as we had cleared the last of the shallow water and had found a straight path into the marina, a rainbow, a sort of multi-colored aurora, appeared in around the sun in the gathering clouds sitting low on the horizon. It was an amazing sight- beautiful and powerful.
Twenty years ago, when my husband and I were married, my best friend read the following passage from the Old Testament during our wedding:
God said, ‘Here is the sign of the Covenant I make between myself and you and every living creature with you for all generations: I set my rainbow in the clouds and it shall be a sign of the Covenant between me and the earth.” (Genesis 9:12-13)
There it was. The bow in the clouds, all the living creatures around us and safe deliverance to home port. A blessing, loud and clear, in the guise of a boat trip.
I don’t quote the Bible often, nor do I attend church any more. But sometimes, there is such a clear declaration of grace from the God of my youth, the God I knew when I was a member of the choir and the acolyte guild, a declaration so loud that I cannot ignore it. So I share it with you here, and hope you are on the look-out, open for what grace is coming your way.
See you on the mat this week.