Committed unto the sea

(I am still working on that same article and will finish tomorrow now. In the meantime, here’s something I want to share)

Watching the news coverage of the hurricane in the Bahamas has me sentimental for the time I vacationed on Grand Bahama Island alone in Dec. 2004, only a few months after an intense Hurricane Jeanne ripped through that part of the former Crown Colony with 120 mph winds, causing heavy structural damage and coastline flooding.

I didn’t even know about the hurricane damage when I last-minute chose to fly to the Bahamas after butting up against an expiration date for a set of free round-trip tickets to anywhere Air Tran Airlines flies, awarded me by the airlines after a big goof-up on a return flight from Akron.

I had spent the year thinking I would simply use the tickets to go back to Ohio for a family visit but then when the deadline approached I couldn’t get just any flight home and, after looking at an Air Tran flight routes map, decided, “Let them take me to their most exclusive destination—the Bahamas.”

Taking a taxi from the airport I could see the damage everywhere. The cab driver filled me in on the hurricane and how it brought tourism to a standstill. Then he told me about the highly unusual cold snap they were having at the moment, expected to last through the weekend (the length of my stay!). I thought, “Just my luck. It’s going to be like a ghost town and it’s going to be too cold to even try to enjoy the ravaged and eroded beaches!”

What made everything “perfect” was I had a found a cheap hotel rate over Travelocity and the hotel (even though it seemed quite decent from its promotional website) was indeed cheap—and in a bad neighborhood! I was told to be very careful, in fact, walking after night and to hide any purse or wallet. Worst part, I couldn’t have been a further walk from the beach. I had to take a bus, in fact.

Fortunately I didn’t waste time correcting my situation. I had only booked it for one night (I am always too adventuresome to want to get settled anywhere) so my second day on the island I scoped out where I’d next go and ended up in very charming Port Lucaya.

Between the lack of tourists, the scraggly, rock-and-debris marred coast, and the cold breeze making the highs only in the mid-60s, I had the place to myself! No matter which beach I explored there was hardly another person in sight and for stretches I was the only one around, kind of spooking me even.

It was too cold to sunbathe or luxuriate very long in the water, so I used the vast majority of time walking the beaches while listening on my Walkman to cassette tape after cassette tape of Alexander Scourby reading Paul’s epistles from the King James Bible.

The time I had was unreal—the most special trip of my life. In continual prayer, with Paul in the background, I plotted out what I would do with the rest of my life. The kinship with my Redeemer was blissful. Paul’s words and his reportings on his travels and experiences never seemed more real—like something I was a part of as I walked along on the craggy coastal paradise as if I had private ownership of the whole island. I thought, “This would be a perfect way to spend a honeymoon.”

On my last evening before my return to the U.S., I decided I had to swim at the motel’s huge outdoor pool no matter how cold it was. After taking an ice cold dip, I plunged into the sublime outdoor hot tub, which I also had all to myself. Looking up at the night stars I felt a gratefulness and sense of security about my life that was unlike anything I ever remembered or could ever put into words.

All these years later, Grand Bahama Island is that place I instinctively and readily go to in my mind when I need comfort and assurance that I am loved through and through. It’s where I am reminded of the life blueprint drawn up for me on those shores and it being one I need never fear going forward, onward and upward!