PUWULO
Chapter 1: The Third Day
I was staring straight up at the sky, and then the next minute I was staring straight down into the dark foaming valley of a massive ocean wave. I was in the middle of what had to be the worst storm ever; at least, at the time, to me it seemed to be the worst storm ever. Up and down, up and down, up and down; night and day, night and day; would it ever stop?
Every time the life raft pointed up, it felt as though my heart hit the floor of my stomach, and every time the raft pointed down, it felt as though my heart would fly right out of my mouth. To make matters worse, nearly every time the raft crested a wave, the wind would catch the back of the raft, lifting it just a little off the ocean surface. Each time that happened, it felt as though the raft would either be flipped over, or lifted completely off the water. Over and over, and over, with endless regularity, up and down, up and down the raft went.
My terror had long since given over to submission; I was helpless within myself. I was truly, and simply, just along for the ride. I had no control over anything, except just to hold on and try to keep the raft balanced, which itself was more than difficult to do. Early on, I tried to pretend that I was on a roller coaster, but roller coasters end after just a few minutes, while I have been on my ride for two nights and two days now, and going into the third night, there was no end in sight.
Funny thing about terror, it at least allowed me to keep the contents of my stomach in place; but once I calmed down and quit struggling against the insurmountable elements, nausea took hold, ridding my body of any nourishment yet to be digested. The first time I vomited, I could only think that now I would be trapped in a small raft full of stinking vomit; that was quickly taken care of by the next wave crashing over the raft.
Eventually, the nausea passed, and with no more terror, all that was left for me to do was to ride it out until the storm ended, if that end would ever come. The waves came at regular intervals; the best I could reckon was 145 seconds from the peak of one wave to the peak of the next. The consistency of the intervals allowed me to get into the rhythm of the waves; this greatly reduced the straining I was doing just to hold on before, and allowed me, if it was truly possible to do so in these circumstances, to relax somewhat. With the terror and nausea gone, and the strain to hold on reduced, my mind was now free to run wild with thoughts that made terror and nausea seem inviting: What it would be like to drown; what type of sea creature would end up getting its nourishment from consuming my lifeless body, or at least I hoped it would be lifeless at that time; and, why did this have to happen to me. Was God punishing me for some horrible sin I had committed? I'm no saint, I thought to myself, but I can't think of anything I did that deserved this punishment. I had thought, that over the past few months, that I was growing closer to God, and if so, why had He abandoned me here? I read my Bible every day. I talked with God, confessing any sins I had committed. I even spent time just talking to God as though He was my best friend. But why did God single me out to be put into this predicament?
Then it dawned on me, that I am not the first to be in such a predicament. Over the centuries, countless seamen have no doubt met with the same end I seem destined to meet. Then I remembered the story in the Bible, in the Book of Acts, close to the end of the Book, where Paul, the Apostle, was being taken to prison, and they were in a small ship that was caught in a storm for several days and nights. Paul prayed and God gave him faith that all aboard the ship would be saved. Just as God had not abandoned Paul in the middle of his storm, God had not abandoned me in the middle of mine. I have been a Christian for years, and knew that whatever horrible death I met, that I would spend Eternity with God in Heaven, thanks entirely to the sacrifice that Jesus made upon the Cross for the payment of my sin debt. But as comforting as that may have been to me, still the thought of drowning, or maybe being dashed upon some rocks, or being eaten alive by sharks kept playing on my mind.
Nevertheless, I eventually came to the conclusion that no amount of worrying or fretting would ever do a thing to get me out of this situation, so believe me when I say: I prayed like I never prayed before. At first, I guess I was just repeating words over and over, such as Jesus, save me! Give me strength! Get me out of this peril that I am in! Don't let me drown! Don't let the sharks eat me! Don't let me be dashed upon rocks! Then finally, I remembered again, that I was just along for the ride, not only in this instance, but throughout my entire life, when I thought I was in control, I really wasn't. It took being out in the middle of the South China Sea, caught up in a hurricane, or typhoon as they call it here, alone, in a small life raft, with no way to change my circumstances by my own abilities, to finally realize that God is the one who is really in control. At that moment, I accepted my fate, whatever it may be, and quit trying to steer my life, just as I had earlier quit trying to steer the raft against the massive waves and strong winds. Whatever God had planned for me, I was ready to accept; just please stop this eternal up and down and up and down of the raft.
As the second day in the raft transitioned over to the third night, the darkness of the storm almost instantly turned to pitch black. If I had been in the deepest mine, or cave, with no light whatsoever, it could not have been any darker. I literally could not see my hand pressed hard against my face. The only sense of position that I had was my stomach and my head going up and down with the waves. Along with the darkness, fear crept in again. Then I cried out loud, "Is this how I am going to perish?"
Then I chuckled as I thought, I wouldn't ever use the word perish. Why would I even think that word, much less cry it out loud? I would have said, "Is this how I'm going to die?" Where did I get the word perish from? Then I remembered another story from the Bible, where the disciples were caught out on the Sea of Galilee by a bad storm one night. While they were struggling to keep their little boat from sinking, Jesus lay fast asleep in the back part of the boat. When things got so bad that it looked as though their boat would surely sink, they cried out to Jesus, "Carest thou not that we perish?" There it is. That's where I got the word perish from. The disciples were, figuratively, in the same boat that I was in, and all that they had to do was to cry to Jesus and wake Him up, and He calmed the storm.
But one thing about that story always puzzled me; after they woke Jesus, and He calmed the storm, He asked the disciples why they were so afraid, and why they didn't have faith. Well they had faith that if they cried to Jesus and woke Him up, that He would save them. Isn't that having faith? Isn't that the point of that story; that they cried to Jesus and He saved them? Then it dawned on me; if Jesus was there in the boat with them, why did they have to cry to Him? They didn't have to. Jesus was there all the time. But He was asleep. How could anyone sleep during a storm at sea in a little boat that could sink at any moment? That's it, I thought, He was able to sleep because He wasn't worrying. He may have been sleeping, but He still knew what their predicament was. He knew that their boat was getting full of water. He knew that if the boat sank, they would more than likely drown. But was He afraid? Were things out of His control? No. He was sleeping peacefully because He knew that the situation was under control; His control. He knew that the boat was not going to sink. He wasn't going to let His disciples drown. He knew that, while they had faith that He could save them from the storm, they didn't have faith that He was the one that was totally in control.
The man, Jesus, may have been asleep in the back part of the boat, but the God, Jesus, is always awake, and all knowing. They didn't have to cry to Him, all they had to do was simply trust Him, just turn loose, put their predicament into His hands, and not worry. And now I knew that that was what I had to do too. While, in my mind at least, I had turned everything over to God, I was still holding on to the controls. I still felt that God needed my input to make the correct decision. I still felt that God needed me to remind Him of my predicament. But, all the while, God simply wanted me to turn loose and let Him handle the situation that was at hand.
I was exhausted. I hadn't eaten in over 48 hours, and what I had eaten before, was lost in the first night. Rain mixed with saltwater spray had been my only drink. I had been awake for more than two days, without even a wink of sleep. I have been terrorized, afraid for my life. Ironically, I now found myself almost wishing that I could die just to put an end to my agony and find some peace, while at the same time I was afraid that death would soon be my end. Somehow, in the midst of all of this, exhaustion overcame me, and I went to sleep. I don't know how I held on; it was probably just a natural reflex by now. I don't know how long I had slept either; one hour, two, or maybe less than a minute. With the pitch darkness, not only was all reference to position lost, but also there was nothing to judge time by either.
But something felt terribly wrong. My head and my stomach still felt as though they were going up and down at the same rhythm they had been moving at for the last two days, while the raft itself, the ocean, and the wind felt amazingly still. Was I still asleep and only dreaming, or had I died and finally found the peace I was craving. I looked all around, but couldn't see a thing. Of course I couldn't see a thing, my eyes are closed and I am asleep; I thought to myself, all of this is just a dream. But why does my head and stomach feel as though I'm going up and down while the raft feels like it is sitting still? Convinced that all that had taken place was simply a horrible nightmare, I relaxed, and when I did, my hand slipped off the rope I had been holding onto, and fell into the water that had filled the raft. Then the realization hit me that this was not a dream, I was out in the middle of the ocean in a life raft. But, at least I was no longer in the middle of a storm. Or was I?
Now a new terror came over me. I had always heard that the eye of a hurricane, or typhoon, was perfectly calm, but when the other side of the storm hit, it would be much worse than the first side. I didn't think I could go through that again. I was exhausted. I felt as though I couldn't hold on for another hour, much less another day or two. But then I remembered that I had no choice in the matter, and that my best, and only bet was to turn loose of the situation, quit worrying, stop asking why, and simply have faith that God knew about my situation and that He would take care of it in the way that He thought best. And with that thought, I again slipped back off into sleep.
When I woke up again, on the third day, to my surprise and pleasure, the sun was low but shining, the waves were nonexistent, and the wind was as still as could be. The storm had indeed passed over. Even though I was tired, sore, hungry, and thirsty, I was tempted to stand right up and jump for joy: but then I realized that if I did, that I would probably either fall overboard, or I would punch a hole through the bottom of the raft with my feet. When I had gained my full senses, a simple, and earnest, "Thank You, God" said it all.
Once I regained my composure, the feeling of being cold came over me. How could I be cold, at last account I was only one to two hundred miles north of the Equator. You can't be cold on the Equator, can you? Apparently, you can, especially when you have been sitting in a raft full of water for three days. Even though the water temperature may be 80 degrees Fahrenheit, it is still nearly 20 degrees less than normal body temperature. The time spent semi submerged in the cooler water, and the blowing wind had sucked the heat right out of my body. And, with nothing to eat for three days, there were no calories to replenish the heat lost to the water and wind.
At first, I didn't know if the sun was low because it was just rising, or if it was low because it was setting. But, after just a few minutes, it was apparent that the sun was getting higher, and that the dawning of the third day had just began, and that soon, I would be feeling the warming rays of the sun.
I knew the first thing that I had to do was to get the water out of the raft. But there was nothing in the raft to bail with. So, cupping my hands, I began the tedious task of scooping the water up and throwing it over. At first, this exposed more of my body to the heat stealing water, but over the period of what seemed like an hour or two, I began to feel warmer as the water went down, and the sun, getting even higher in the sky, shone in. Before I knew it, the bottom of the raft began to show through, and while I would never get it dry, at least I was no longer sitting semi submerged, and was fully exposed to the suns warming rays.
While I sat there shivering, I became mad at the heat stealing water that had filled the raft, and which I had just finished bailing out. Then it dawned on me, that it was probably the weight of the water in the raft that kept the wind, at the crest of the waves, from completely lifting the raft off the water and blowing it away as it dumped me into the ocean. As I thought on that, I had to thank God for causing the raft to fill with the water, even if it was uncomfortable. Again, from the exhaustion of the ordeal and the physical work of bailing the water out of the raft, I fell back to sleep.
When I woke up, I was blistered something awful. My lips were cracked and sore. I couldn't stand to touch myself for the burning pain. I couldn't sweat for the lack of anything to drink. I was so hungry that, to put it as my father used to say, "My belly button is grinding against my backbone".
Now my thoughts ran wild again, causing me to wonder if I had miraculously survived the storm only to die from dehydration and starvation. No, I told myself, at least not unless that's what God has planned for me, and I don't believe that it is.
Surly, I thought, a life raft would have some emergency supplies on board, and this was my first chance to search the raft for them. But nothing was found onboard the raft. Then I saw a large cord, running from a pocket inside the raft, and dangling over the back of the raft. Of course, any emergency supplies would be tethered to the raft with a cord or small rope. Why hadn't I noticed this before? I lunged to the back of the raft and started pulling the cord in. Sure enough, attached to the end of the cord was a pouch with the words, "Emergency Supplies" stenciled on it. I quickly pulled it into the raft, already tasting the water and food it contained, only to see that the pouch must have came open during the storm, dumping its contents into the ocean. Needless to say, my hopes sank as far as the ocean was deep. Now all I had to do was to sit put and wait out the next chapter of my peril. But at least the pouch did make a functional, though unfashionable, hat to shade my head and face.
I lay down in the raft, hungry and thirsty, yet somewhat warm and dry, and thought to myself, "Just turn loose, what good is it going to do me to worry or fret?" Even though I had no idea as to where the storm had taken me, or what my outcome would be, God knew exactly where I was, and He knew exactly the predicament that I was in, and He knew exactly what needed to be done.
As the afternoon started to draw to an end, I realized that I had been in the water for three full nights and three full days now. That meant that this was Tuesday afternoon. I should have been in Singapore, enjoying the sights, but instead, I was floating out in the middle of who knows where. How would I ever get out of this ordeal: I have no water, no food, I'm sunburned, and I'm weak from exhaustion? But, I knew I was not alone. No matter how hopeless the situation seemed, I knew that God was there, and that I would either be rescued soon, or I would be meeting Him up in Heaven.
While laying there in the raft, either half asleep or half unconscious, thinking of God, and totally turning all control of my situation over to Him, as though there were anything that I could have controlled if I had of wanted to, I began to ponder Creation, and how on the third day, God separated the waters from the dry ground, and caused the grass and trees to grow. I began to long for the green grass, trees, and hills of Tennessee, where I had came from only six months ago. Only six months, it seemed like six years. Finally, with that thought, and starting to chill again due to the lowering sun; exhausted, I again fell sound asleep.
I couldn't have been asleep very long at all, for when the motion of the raft woke me, it was not quite dark yet. As I started to gain full consciousness, I became aware of a loud roaring accompanied by a sharp tossing of the raft. My first thoughts were that the storm had returned to finish its job. I didn't even have time to sit up before I found myself flying through the air, as if in a summersault; first seeing the water, then the sky, then something brown just as I hit it with my head.
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Chapter 1: The Third Day
I was staring straight up at the sky, and then the next minute I was staring straight down into the dark foaming valley of a massive ocean wave. I was in the middle of what had to be the worst storm ever; at least, at the time, to me it seemed to be the worst storm ever. Up and down, up and down, up and down; night and day, night and day; would it ever stop?
Every time the life raft pointed up, it felt as though my heart hit the floor of my stomach, and every time the raft pointed down, it felt as though my heart would fly right out of my mouth. To make matters worse, nearly every time the raft crested a wave, the wind would catch the back of the raft, lifting it just a little off the ocean surface. Each time that happened, it felt as though the raft would either be flipped over, or lifted completely off the water. Over and over, and over, with endless regularity, up and down, up and down the raft went.
My terror had long since given over to submission; I was helpless within myself. I was truly, and simply, just along for the ride. I had no control over anything, except just to hold on and try to keep the raft balanced, which itself was more than difficult to do. Early on, I tried to pretend that I was on a roller coaster, but roller coasters end after just a few minutes, while I have been on my ride for two nights and two days now, and going into the third night, there was no end in sight.
Funny thing about terror, it at least allowed me to keep the contents of my stomach in place; but once I calmed down and quit struggling against the insurmountable elements, nausea took hold, ridding my body of any nourishment yet to be digested. The first time I vomited, I could only think that now I would be trapped in a small raft full of stinking vomit; that was quickly taken care of by the next wave crashing over the raft.
Eventually, the nausea passed, and with no more terror, all that was left for me to do was to ride it out until the storm ended, if that end would ever come. The waves came at regular intervals; the best I could reckon was 145 seconds from the peak of one wave to the peak of the next. The consistency of the intervals allowed me to get into the rhythm of the waves; this greatly reduced the straining I was doing just to hold on before, and allowed me, if it was truly possible to do so in these circumstances, to relax somewhat. With the terror and nausea gone, and the strain to hold on reduced, my mind was now free to run wild with thoughts that made terror and nausea seem inviting: What it would be like to drown; what type of sea creature would end up getting its nourishment from consuming my lifeless body, or at least I hoped it would be lifeless at that time; and, why did this have to happen to me. Was God punishing me for some horrible sin I had committed? I'm no saint, I thought to myself, but I can't think of anything I did that deserved this punishment. I had thought, that over the past few months, that I was growing closer to God, and if so, why had He abandoned me here? I read my Bible every day. I talked with God, confessing any sins I had committed. I even spent time just talking to God as though He was my best friend. But why did God single me out to be put into this predicament?
Then it dawned on me, that I am not the first to be in such a predicament. Over the centuries, countless seamen have no doubt met with the same end I seem destined to meet. Then I remembered the story in the Bible, in the Book of Acts, close to the end of the Book, where Paul, the Apostle, was being taken to prison, and they were in a small ship that was caught in a storm for several days and nights. Paul prayed and God gave him faith that all aboard the ship would be saved. Just as God had not abandoned Paul in the middle of his storm, God had not abandoned me in the middle of mine. I have been a Christian for years, and knew that whatever horrible death I met, that I would spend Eternity with God in Heaven, thanks entirely to the sacrifice that Jesus made upon the Cross for the payment of my sin debt. But as comforting as that may have been to me, still the thought of drowning, or maybe being dashed upon some rocks, or being eaten alive by sharks kept playing on my mind.
Nevertheless, I eventually came to the conclusion that no amount of worrying or fretting would ever do a thing to get me out of this situation, so believe me when I say: I prayed like I never prayed before. At first, I guess I was just repeating words over and over, such as Jesus, save me! Give me strength! Get me out of this peril that I am in! Don't let me drown! Don't let the sharks eat me! Don't let me be dashed upon rocks! Then finally, I remembered again, that I was just along for the ride, not only in this instance, but throughout my entire life, when I thought I was in control, I really wasn't. It took being out in the middle of the South China Sea, caught up in a hurricane, or typhoon as they call it here, alone, in a small life raft, with no way to change my circumstances by my own abilities, to finally realize that God is the one who is really in control. At that moment, I accepted my fate, whatever it may be, and quit trying to steer my life, just as I had earlier quit trying to steer the raft against the massive waves and strong winds. Whatever God had planned for me, I was ready to accept; just please stop this eternal up and down and up and down of the raft.
As the second day in the raft transitioned over to the third night, the darkness of the storm almost instantly turned to pitch black. If I had been in the deepest mine, or cave, with no light whatsoever, it could not have been any darker. I literally could not see my hand pressed hard against my face. The only sense of position that I had was my stomach and my head going up and down with the waves. Along with the darkness, fear crept in again. Then I cried out loud, "Is this how I am going to perish?"
Then I chuckled as I thought, I wouldn't ever use the word perish. Why would I even think that word, much less cry it out loud? I would have said, "Is this how I'm going to die?" Where did I get the word perish from? Then I remembered another story from the Bible, where the disciples were caught out on the Sea of Galilee by a bad storm one night. While they were struggling to keep their little boat from sinking, Jesus lay fast asleep in the back part of the boat. When things got so bad that it looked as though their boat would surely sink, they cried out to Jesus, "Carest thou not that we perish?" There it is. That's where I got the word perish from. The disciples were, figuratively, in the same boat that I was in, and all that they had to do was to cry to Jesus and wake Him up, and He calmed the storm.
But one thing about that story always puzzled me; after they woke Jesus, and He calmed the storm, He asked the disciples why they were so afraid, and why they didn't have faith. Well they had faith that if they cried to Jesus and woke Him up, that He would save them. Isn't that having faith? Isn't that the point of that story; that they cried to Jesus and He saved them? Then it dawned on me; if Jesus was there in the boat with them, why did they have to cry to Him? They didn't have to. Jesus was there all the time. But He was asleep. How could anyone sleep during a storm at sea in a little boat that could sink at any moment? That's it, I thought, He was able to sleep because He wasn't worrying. He may have been sleeping, but He still knew what their predicament was. He knew that their boat was getting full of water. He knew that if the boat sank, they would more than likely drown. But was He afraid? Were things out of His control? No. He was sleeping peacefully because He knew that the situation was under control; His control. He knew that the boat was not going to sink. He wasn't going to let His disciples drown. He knew that, while they had faith that He could save them from the storm, they didn't have faith that He was the one that was totally in control.
The man, Jesus, may have been asleep in the back part of the boat, but the God, Jesus, is always awake, and all knowing. They didn't have to cry to Him, all they had to do was simply trust Him, just turn loose, put their predicament into His hands, and not worry. And now I knew that that was what I had to do too. While, in my mind at least, I had turned everything over to God, I was still holding on to the controls. I still felt that God needed my input to make the correct decision. I still felt that God needed me to remind Him of my predicament. But, all the while, God simply wanted me to turn loose and let Him handle the situation that was at hand.
I was exhausted. I hadn't eaten in over 48 hours, and what I had eaten before, was lost in the first night. Rain mixed with saltwater spray had been my only drink. I had been awake for more than two days, without even a wink of sleep. I have been terrorized, afraid for my life. Ironically, I now found myself almost wishing that I could die just to put an end to my agony and find some peace, while at the same time I was afraid that death would soon be my end. Somehow, in the midst of all of this, exhaustion overcame me, and I went to sleep. I don't know how I held on; it was probably just a natural reflex by now. I don't know how long I had slept either; one hour, two, or maybe less than a minute. With the pitch darkness, not only was all reference to position lost, but also there was nothing to judge time by either.
But something felt terribly wrong. My head and my stomach still felt as though they were going up and down at the same rhythm they had been moving at for the last two days, while the raft itself, the ocean, and the wind felt amazingly still. Was I still asleep and only dreaming, or had I died and finally found the peace I was craving. I looked all around, but couldn't see a thing. Of course I couldn't see a thing, my eyes are closed and I am asleep; I thought to myself, all of this is just a dream. But why does my head and stomach feel as though I'm going up and down while the raft feels like it is sitting still? Convinced that all that had taken place was simply a horrible nightmare, I relaxed, and when I did, my hand slipped off the rope I had been holding onto, and fell into the water that had filled the raft. Then the realization hit me that this was not a dream, I was out in the middle of the ocean in a life raft. But, at least I was no longer in the middle of a storm. Or was I?
Now a new terror came over me. I had always heard that the eye of a hurricane, or typhoon, was perfectly calm, but when the other side of the storm hit, it would be much worse than the first side. I didn't think I could go through that again. I was exhausted. I felt as though I couldn't hold on for another hour, much less another day or two. But then I remembered that I had no choice in the matter, and that my best, and only bet was to turn loose of the situation, quit worrying, stop asking why, and simply have faith that God knew about my situation and that He would take care of it in the way that He thought best. And with that thought, I again slipped back off into sleep.
When I woke up again, on the third day, to my surprise and pleasure, the sun was low but shining, the waves were nonexistent, and the wind was as still as could be. The storm had indeed passed over. Even though I was tired, sore, hungry, and thirsty, I was tempted to stand right up and jump for joy: but then I realized that if I did, that I would probably either fall overboard, or I would punch a hole through the bottom of the raft with my feet. When I had gained my full senses, a simple, and earnest, "Thank You, God" said it all.
Once I regained my composure, the feeling of being cold came over me. How could I be cold, at last account I was only one to two hundred miles north of the Equator. You can't be cold on the Equator, can you? Apparently, you can, especially when you have been sitting in a raft full of water for three days. Even though the water temperature may be 80 degrees Fahrenheit, it is still nearly 20 degrees less than normal body temperature. The time spent semi submerged in the cooler water, and the blowing wind had sucked the heat right out of my body. And, with nothing to eat for three days, there were no calories to replenish the heat lost to the water and wind.
At first, I didn't know if the sun was low because it was just rising, or if it was low because it was setting. But, after just a few minutes, it was apparent that the sun was getting higher, and that the dawning of the third day had just began, and that soon, I would be feeling the warming rays of the sun.
I knew the first thing that I had to do was to get the water out of the raft. But there was nothing in the raft to bail with. So, cupping my hands, I began the tedious task of scooping the water up and throwing it over. At first, this exposed more of my body to the heat stealing water, but over the period of what seemed like an hour or two, I began to feel warmer as the water went down, and the sun, getting even higher in the sky, shone in. Before I knew it, the bottom of the raft began to show through, and while I would never get it dry, at least I was no longer sitting semi submerged, and was fully exposed to the suns warming rays.
While I sat there shivering, I became mad at the heat stealing water that had filled the raft, and which I had just finished bailing out. Then it dawned on me, that it was probably the weight of the water in the raft that kept the wind, at the crest of the waves, from completely lifting the raft off the water and blowing it away as it dumped me into the ocean. As I thought on that, I had to thank God for causing the raft to fill with the water, even if it was uncomfortable. Again, from the exhaustion of the ordeal and the physical work of bailing the water out of the raft, I fell back to sleep.
When I woke up, I was blistered something awful. My lips were cracked and sore. I couldn't stand to touch myself for the burning pain. I couldn't sweat for the lack of anything to drink. I was so hungry that, to put it as my father used to say, "My belly button is grinding against my backbone".
Now my thoughts ran wild again, causing me to wonder if I had miraculously survived the storm only to die from dehydration and starvation. No, I told myself, at least not unless that's what God has planned for me, and I don't believe that it is.
Surly, I thought, a life raft would have some emergency supplies on board, and this was my first chance to search the raft for them. But nothing was found onboard the raft. Then I saw a large cord, running from a pocket inside the raft, and dangling over the back of the raft. Of course, any emergency supplies would be tethered to the raft with a cord or small rope. Why hadn't I noticed this before? I lunged to the back of the raft and started pulling the cord in. Sure enough, attached to the end of the cord was a pouch with the words, "Emergency Supplies" stenciled on it. I quickly pulled it into the raft, already tasting the water and food it contained, only to see that the pouch must have came open during the storm, dumping its contents into the ocean. Needless to say, my hopes sank as far as the ocean was deep. Now all I had to do was to sit put and wait out the next chapter of my peril. But at least the pouch did make a functional, though unfashionable, hat to shade my head and face.
I lay down in the raft, hungry and thirsty, yet somewhat warm and dry, and thought to myself, "Just turn loose, what good is it going to do me to worry or fret?" Even though I had no idea as to where the storm had taken me, or what my outcome would be, God knew exactly where I was, and He knew exactly the predicament that I was in, and He knew exactly what needed to be done.
As the afternoon started to draw to an end, I realized that I had been in the water for three full nights and three full days now. That meant that this was Tuesday afternoon. I should have been in Singapore, enjoying the sights, but instead, I was floating out in the middle of who knows where. How would I ever get out of this ordeal: I have no water, no food, I'm sunburned, and I'm weak from exhaustion? But, I knew I was not alone. No matter how hopeless the situation seemed, I knew that God was there, and that I would either be rescued soon, or I would be meeting Him up in Heaven.
While laying there in the raft, either half asleep or half unconscious, thinking of God, and totally turning all control of my situation over to Him, as though there were anything that I could have controlled if I had of wanted to, I began to ponder Creation, and how on the third day, God separated the waters from the dry ground, and caused the grass and trees to grow. I began to long for the green grass, trees, and hills of Tennessee, where I had came from only six months ago. Only six months, it seemed like six years. Finally, with that thought, and starting to chill again due to the lowering sun; exhausted, I again fell sound asleep.
I couldn't have been asleep very long at all, for when the motion of the raft woke me, it was not quite dark yet. As I started to gain full consciousness, I became aware of a loud roaring accompanied by a sharp tossing of the raft. My first thoughts were that the storm had returned to finish its job. I didn't even have time to sit up before I found myself flying through the air, as if in a summersault; first seeing the water, then the sky, then something brown just as I hit it with my head.
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