Others went out on the sea in ships; they were merchants on the mighty waters.It seems that there was at least one crew of Biblical sailors who set out in a flat-bottomed ferry, or I'm not sure they would have been able to describe our experience over the last few days quite so accurately.
They saw the works of the Lord, his wonderful deeds in the deep.
For he spoke and stirred up a tempest that lifted high the waves.
They mounted up to the heavens and went down to the depths; in their peril their courage melted away.
They reeled and staggered like drunken men; they were at their wits' end.
Then they cried out to the Lord in their trouble, and he brought them out of their distress.
He stilled the storm to a whisper; the waves of the sea were hushed.
They were glad when it grew calm, and he guided them to their desired haven.
Take a protractor (if you're nerd enough to have one of those on you) and measure out twenty-five degrees off the vertical. Now imagine your house, the room you're in right now, tilting that far to one side. Then snapping back upright. And doing the same in the other direction, all in the space of not-so-many seconds. Think your room would survive that with any kind of grace? Not much on the ship did. We were sleepless and rattled, the galley a mass of spilled milk that no one, thankfully, was crying over. (They're tough like that.) As for myself, I spent the time sleeping and revisiting any meals I had been foolish enough to chance.
But today? Oh, today is a different story. Yesterday evening the swells had died down enough that waves weren't crashing over the bow, and we were finally allowed out there to revel in the sunset, a performance we happily repeated today. And now I'm going to bed, where I intend to stay for the whole night. Tonight, there will be no crashings of dishes not properly padded in cupboards. There will be no mad dashes out of bed to see what went bump in the night, dashes that end up turning into full-out sprints (and possibly collisions with the far wall) when the ship pitches forward at just the right time.
No, tonight is for sleep. And tomorrow is for eating the peach cobbler that my now-non-queasy stomach allowed me to make a little while ago. And that, my friends, is good enough reason to be glad.