Thirty by Thirty
(30 meditations on daily life)
Stephen Debros
Copyright 2010, 2011 Stephen Debros
Scripture taken from The Message. Copyright 1993, 1994, 1995, 1996, 2000, 2001, 2002. Used by permission of NavPress Publishing group.
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people unless it was a FREE gift from the author. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re-reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the blood, sweat and tears of this author.
CONTACT DETAILS for Stephen Debros
Connect with my Literary Agent online:
Email: mudthang@gmail.com
Twitter: www.twitter.com/mudthang
***
CONTENTS
Introduction: When life runs aground
17. "Straighten up and fly right"
25. Four questions: Where do I come from?
28. What is of ultimate value?
***
GOD formed Man out of dirt from the ground and blew into his nostrils the breath of life. The Man came alive - a living soul! (Genesis 2:7 from The Message)
Two questions continue to challenge me:
1. What is poetry?
2. When I read a poem and it moves me,
makes me laugh in recognition,
or weep with deeper understanding,
or just sit and stare,
and think for a long moment -
tell me something...
am I reading the words?
Or are the words reading me?
***
Sometimes the storms will arrive and batter you senseless. One moment it's clear skies and fair weather. The next is gale-force winds and you might just get blown off course. And if your life runs aground, who are you going to turn to in your time of trouble?
Tuesday, 19 August, 2003 began like any other in Cape Town, I suppose. But within 24 hours three important things would have changed indelibly. For a start, record gale-force storms ripped the roofs from the homes of Cape Town's poorer communities and snow was reported on the upper slopes of Table Mountain and in suburbs for the first time in years. Then an otherwise unnoticeable cargo ship called the Sea-Land Express, piloted by an American captain, ran aground at a place called Sunset Beach, almost in sight of Cape Town harbour. And within 24 hours I would have lost the sight in my right eye when one of the tiniest blood vessels imaginable burst over my optic nerve. I'm an insulin dependent diabetic, have been since I was 11, always thought my control was okay. But diabetes is an unforgiving disease, and it doesn't like taking prisoners.
When news of the ship running aground came over the radio I jumped in my car and headed straight for the beach. The ship, about 30 000 tons in size and stacked with containers up to five high on her decks, lay like a beached whale about 100 to 200 meters offshore. For the time I sat on that beach in the cold and the wind, realizing that this ship was literally within wading distance, I began to see another picture emerge.
For some obscure reason and on some strange level I connected with this ship. Call it an epiphany if you like, but the event spoke to me. Like so many of us sailing through life, we nonchalantly continue our voyage, the decks of our lives packed with containers and all the baggage of our past. Then directly within sight of our destination, when we've almost reached our harbour, we hit a storm. Before we can totally comprehend what has occurred, our ship has run aground and we are stuck fast.
While I watched that ship carefully, three sturdy tugboats stayed close to the stricken ship as if trying to reassure her with promises of rescue. One in particular, the John Ross, is a notably strong workhorse. Yet try as all three rescuers might, the ship just would not budge. A large helicopter hovered constantly, repeatedly attempting to attach a line between the Sea-Land Express and the tugs. No joy whatsoever. That beached ship sat, rolling unevenly in the swell, battered constantly by an unrelenting succession of waves with the metal of her hull screaming as she rocked to and fro against the sand.
There were many onlookers, crowds of them, pacing up and down the beach sand. Most of the conversations I shared and overheard were about the captain and what a fool he must feel like. One elderly man who said he worked for a local shipping company chuckled and shook his head, `When that American captain pulled into the harbour a few days ago, he docked that ship directly on top of another vessel. I mean that's just like double parking your car.'
According to news reports, the ship was chartered by Danish-based Maersk Sealand from an American company and started running into trouble the day before as she crept along the South African coastline. The local port authority, realizing how close the vessel was to shore, frantically urged the captain to take evasive action. By most accounts he simply ignored their advice, trusting his own instincts instead. At about 6am, the ship ran aground, wedging herself firmly on a sandbank in shallow water.
The more I looked and thought about what I was seeing, the more empathy I felt. Who would have thought such a large boat could be stuck so fast. And yet so often I've felt secure in myself, trusted my own judgement no matter how many warning calls I received from my conscience. But everything changes when you run aground. I'm not laying blame at that captain's door but a lot of people are pointing fingers. I just sat quietly and tried to take it all in. That sad ship so close to shore. The unmistakable outline of Table Mountain breaking the ship's silhouette. And those three tugboats trying so hard to nudge the stricken vessel back to deep water.
Sometimes like that ship, I feel like a strange fish out of water. In those moments our lives lie suddenly exposed through a misjudgement or a stupid mistake and you can be sure the crowds of people will arrive by the carload. Sometimes they come for no other reason than to witness our plight. Perhaps personal tragedy really is one of life's greatest unacknowledged spectator sports. We can carry on uninterrupted, making multiple journeys and as many return trips with unmentionable cargo as we please but when we slip up, through accident or design, be sure that the crowds will arrive with their whispers and their stares and their studied opinions.
I left the beach that first day, like many people, expecting the Sea-Land Express to be pulled out to sea before the next morning light. But the morning after, she was still there. And the morning after that one too. The John Ross, that tug I'd watched with such interest, left the scene for another high-sea drama. She joined the hunt for a Uruguayan fishing boat, which had been poaching Patagonian toothfish in Australian waters the culprits were arrested among icebergs off the tip of South America in freezing-cold Antarctic waters. And yet when the John Ross returned to port in Cape Town, the Sea-Land Express was still stuck fast.
Still, when I left the beach and the ship that afternoon I felt strangely moved and sad without knowing why. And by the same time the following afternoon I would have been bounced between my optician, a diabetic specialist and my ophthalmologist. The verdict was clear unlike my vision. There was a fat blood clot positioned directly over my right optic nerve, obscuring the fovea and robbing me of all vision in that eye. Something like an angry red spider now crouches in that space, the tiny leaking vessels spreading like an arachnid's spindly legs through what used to be my sight.
One moment I was seeing okay, watching a stranded ship and the waves crashing in to shore, the next I had gone blind in one eye. Let's be honest here: I'm not looking for sympathy but I am wanting to share a perspective, call it a new angle on life if you please.
Life will sometimes leave you stranded on a shore you never thought you'd spend so much time contemplating. Like unexpected weather, like the snow that arrives overnight. One moment you're lying awake in bed reflecting on the past day. The next thing you know there's a chill in the air, a sudden bite, and snow has covered your winter lawn. I don't know what you're facing, what particular storm may have driven your ship to shore. Perhaps you're still sailing steady, your course has been charted well and you're making good time. Then this story will not make much sense.
But if you've unexpectedly run aground, and the accusers are standing on the beach nearby, pointing fingers and reaching for binoculars to get a closer look at your trouble then take heart. You need to realize that you might be here for a while. Close to home, for the past three weeks I've listened as different people have tried to get that ship out of trouble and back to sea, where she belongs. But everything they've tried hasn't worked yet. In my own case, I have to trust what I can't see the hand of God moving through my situation. Like three tugboats waiting to carry me back to safe harbour, I believe that God, his son and the Holy Spirit are close at hand yearning to pull me from my predicament.
Some day soon, if the men from the salvage company are to be believed, they will pull that ship off the beach. And I believe that in time I will also make sense of this season in my own life. Things happen, for whatever reason. And God is here through it all, no matter how fierce the storm, and how crazy the weather. It's a profound challenge, but it's also simple. When life runs aground, who are you going to turn to for help? You have a number of choices. On one side is the sea, unforgiving and relentless. But in the same sea that grounded you are your rescuers those three tugs, like the ever-present personalities of God. They will keep waiting, as long as it takes, for just the right moment to stage a rescue operation. It's just a matter of time.
Endnote: The Sea-Land Express, which ran aground on 19 August 2003 after dragging her anchor in a storm was finally pulled off the sand in shallow water on Saturday 13 September 2003. Watchers on shore shouted for joy as the 33 000 ton vessel was finally pulled to deeper water by two tugs, the Pacific Worker and the Pacific Brigand. "We jumped up and down," said a spokeswoman for the salvage company, adding, "We're thrilled it's the first time I've shed a tear for a ship." Several previous bids to refloat and rescue the ship failed dismally. Local authorities had even considered building a causeway through the surf to remove her cargo of containers.
***
Father
you've made me the way I am
a loud buffoon on some occasions
or a nervous hermit hugging the walls
when I feel vulnerable.
At the end of most days
I'm just an exhausted lump crying out for rest
And always
in my search to find my self
I find my self in search of you
Like a little girl crying out at night
not waking up herself
but Mom 'n' Dad
come running, crawling or stumbling
to see that she's safe and
able to sleep on undisturbed.
I'm like that little girl
My dreams become nightmares
and deep in the slumber of
my own forgotten goals
my abandoned hopes
I cry out
not waking but in my sleep a troubled dreamer
and I know you're right there at my side
smoothing the hair across my head
stroking my cheek gently
leaning over to whisper in my ear:
I love you
it's okay
sleep well
I'm watching over you.
Reading: Keep watch over me and keep me out of trouble; Don't let me down when I run to you. Use all your skill to put me together; I wait to see your finished product. (Psalm 25:20-21)
Thought: As the watchful parent of a small child I'm sometimes roused from sleep by the cry I've grown to recognize so well. Usually I stumble down the corridor to my daughter's room and find her fast asleep but maybe a little troubled as she wrestles with some unknown terror. Perhaps she's a fairy princess having a face-off with the wicked stepmother, or she's trying to save a unicorn from drowning, or running away from giant spiders, again. I'll kneel over her, check she's tucked in and kiss her carefully on her tiny cheek. And as often as I can I try to whisper in her ear that I love her so much. She smiles in her sleep and everything's okay again. I know: sometimes during the day she's been a despot, the tyrannical little centre of the universe, chaser of cats and the mayhem monster of tidy rooms. But at night when she's asleep and vulnerable, I have so much love for her. I want to protect her, look after her, make her feel so special and so loved. If that's how I feel about my little girl, I take comfort in knowing that my own father always watches over me. His eye is constant and he sees everything I am and everything I do. He made me. And he's helping me find my way through this place called life. I find that reassuring, in a deeply comforting way. And at night it helps me sleep better too.
Prayer: Abba Father. Thank you for watching over me while I sleep. You know me better than any other person ever could, better than I know myself. And knowing all that, you still love me. Help me to become the person you want me to be. Thank you for loving the child inside me and for always seeing the potential for good in the situations I face. I love you so much. Thank you for being my loving father. Amen.
***
Sometimes when I wake
my heart feels stuffed
with all the thoughts I've spent the night wrestling
I can't say why but things are not quite right
I'm grumpy
and shout at the cat for no good reason
and wonder why the milk won't pour in just the right way
On days like these
when I'm overwhelmed by doubts and fears
or looking towards some unknown tomorrow
(usually disguised as a Monday)
in moods like these
please take me carefully
and guide me with your
holy spirit
calm
to a quiet place in my storm
no one really likes a moody person
especially me
so please
help me find
your eye
in the centre of my storm.
Reading: One day he and his disciples got in a boat. "Let's cross the lake," he said. And off they went. It was smooth sailing, and he fell asleep. A terrific storm came up suddenly on the lake. Water poured in, and they were about to capsize. They woke Jesus: "Master, Master, we're going to drown!" Getting to his feet, he told the wind, "Silence!" and the waves, "Quiet down!" They did it. The lake became smooth as glass. Then he said to his disciples, "Why can't you trust me?" They were in absolute awe, staggered and stammering, "Who is this, anyway? He calls out to the winds and sea, and they do what he tells them!" (Luke 8:22-25)