Welcome to Buoy, a Life in Deeper Water podcast.

Episode 42. Join Us for a Real Life Spirit-Sail (part 1 of an open water journey) (originally published July 19, 2023)

Hello human.

This is a journey of 2,225 miles. And a mother’s heart.

It is about trusting God and something He has created, the Pacific Ocean.

It is about trusting God with my son.

The Transpacific Yacht Race (called Transpac) is a biannual sailing race from Long Beach, California to Honolulu, Hawaii. It is one of the world’s oldest and longest open ocean races. This voyage is for those who have the courage and will to go the distance across the Pacific Ocean, from Point Fermin in California (Long Beach) to Diamond Head on O’ahu, Hawaii.

So, my son is on the return crew for a boat christened Good Energy. This means he is on the crew sailing the boat back to California.

When he told me he was doing this, the first thing I looked up was how many miles.

The second thing I wanted to know was how to understand the position of his boat in the tracking device and to get clear on what a knot is. I have read The Old Man and the Sea and Moby Dick, but now it matters beyond a book report. If the sailboat is going 10 knots @ 17.94 degrees (which was the first reading I saw after he set sail) the boat is traveling 11.5 miles per hour. The 17.94 degrees is the angle of the sailboat in relation to the direction of the wind and the water current. That’s my cerebral picture of it… the boat’s angle is more complicated than that, by the diagrams I reviewed, a deeper dive. I love geometry but… he is going to have to explain it to me some day.

He left on Saturday, July 15 from Hawaii. He lives in San Pedro, seven miles from Long Beach.

This is a journey of 2,225 miles.

He is facing unpredictable conditions in what has been named “the ultimate test of endurance, seafaring knowledge, and sailing skills.” Yet he has been sailing for only a few years. It will likely take 7 to 12 days, depending on all the sea has to offer this return crew. Good Energy is in the nautical company of all the boats that raced… yet each carving their solo return path through the largest ocean in the world.

So, I wait. I pray. I comfort myself with God’s voice, His Word. Writing. Recording. A recipe. A conversation. A restless sleep. I check the YP tracker a hundred times a day, though it is on a 4-hour delay. I should thank Elon Musk. For his technology that makes my obsession possible. Or as my son said a few days ago: “Luckily, we have Star Link. It’s hard to believe, but as we sail this boat home, Elon has a hand in it.”

Yet, it is a journey of 2,225 miles.

An Open Water Tomorrow

He texted to a friend a couple of days before setting sail:

“For me, we have two rules, and every great team establishes a simple edict. Rule one on a major crossing: people stay safe; rule two is, the asset. This boat is safe. And even though you could say half of the boat is experienced and half the boat is doing this for the first time, the team seems to work well together and that’s not an accident or happenstance.

I trust my leaders. And am very willing and able to support their decisions, as we did on all those fishing outings in order to keep it together and get everyone home the way they stepped aboard.

I honestly don’t feel new to this. It feels very comfortable, but the fact remains that it’s my first major crossing and I hold that with reverence. It’s a long putt uphill as the ocean goes in this direction.”

And then he said, “Tomorrow, I begin to find out.”

Later he texted, “Legs crossed. Waiting for the call. For me it’s from a power beyond me. That’s what got me here, and that’s what’s gonna drive me as it always has in music and theatre and boats that go.

And again he texts to a friend:

“I should have, perhaps bought a journal. We have breakfast at seven something and leave at nine.

I love my team. I’m in the lobby of the hotel. Sitting. Waiting. To push Good Energy home. Bringing back good energy.”

I said to him before they sailed: “I am coming with you; I am already on my way. I feel that knowing you are deeply immersed physically in the vast watery presence of the ocean God breathed into existence, is something to stand down for. To stand down with an attentive heart.”

And I shared the verse about Job declaring his Creator in the midst of tragedy-laden trials…

Job 12:7-10 declares:

“But ask the animals, and they will teach you, or the birds in the sky, and they will tell you; or speak to the earth, and it will teach you, or let the fish in the sea inform you. Which of all these does not know that the hand of the Lord has done this? In his hand is the life of every creature and the breath of all mankind.”

God has my son’s breath, his life, in His hand.

The last text from land was a text video from him on board as they were setting sail:

His face illuminated by contentment, “Here we go mom. I’m on the bow. We are all ready to go. It’s beautiful.”

And he smiled.

Yet, it’s a journey of 2,225 miles.

I remembered that he had told his work boss:

“… I am at the mercy of God’s weather …” He was speaking about how long the trip would be… but I keep coming back to it. The power of it. What does it mean to be at God’s mercy, fully engaged in a life lived for him?

God’s Deeds in the Deep

Psalm 107:23-30

23 Some went out on the sea in ships;

    they were merchants on the mighty waters.

24 They saw the works of the Lord,

    his wonderful deeds in the deep.

25 For he spoke and stirred up a tempest

    that lifted high the waves.

26 They mounted up to the heavens and went down to the depths;

    in their peril their courage melted away.

27 They reeled and staggered like drunkards;

    they were at their wits’ end.

28 Then they cried out to the Lord in their trouble,

    and he brought them out of their distress.

29 He stilled the storm to a whisper;

    the waves of the sea were hushed.

30 They were glad when it grew calm,

    and he guided them to their desired haven.

I live on water. Kitty Hawk Bay is not very deep, but I witness every day, throughout the day how the water changes, with the tide, the wind, the atmospheric pressure, and it’s pull to three large sounds connected together with outlets to the Atlantic Ocean. I would not want to be swimming in my backyard Bay when the wind gusts up to 35+ mph, which happens quite often. The power of just trying to stand firm against the wind, and a water spray on our back deck, is in itself, humbling.

But this journey is in open water. 2,225 miles of it. What I talk about so much on BUOY. He is having an open water experience that very few people ever have.

I pray that he accepts God’s mercy. Whatever tempests God brings to him, from without on the water, and from within.

I am not consumed by fear for his physical life. I read that 600-800 boats with anywhere from one to six people on them cross the Pacific every year, and most years there are not fatalities. (Yes, I did THAT online search.)

I have prayed that God does not take him doing something he loves. Yet.

Because he loves the ocean that much. This affirms my reverence for an omnipotent God. But I need to work on letting go, and trusting God with the people who are most precious to me.

But what I am consciously, intentionally praying about is this, that his spirit-sail is perfectly angled toward the deepest, strongest God-experience, the mightiest of spiritual winds. What do I mean by this?

That the relationships he will fortify on this journey endure. In the middle of squalls, tempests, currents and waiting for more wind, better wind. God’s breath. What they will learn about each other, that everyone else not on the boat (the rest of us) will never know. That’s the stuff of life-long friendships.

That he will sail toward honesty about himself on this water trek. In the middle of meeting new challenges, becoming part of the open water experience (which I have minimal exposure to… even living on the coast). I believe that for each of us, we must seek honesty about how God has created us, for what purpose, and rejoice in it.

That what he will learn about God on this sail above all past sails, this total submersion into God’s creation, will bring humility that empowers God’s purpose in his life.

Really, I pray that he be fully accepting, fully responsible for this gift God has given him. That he angles into the wind set before him.

How Deep is God’s Love?

So, how deep is God’s love?  Let’s start with something He created. The Pacific Ocean.

Because scale is helpful. The Pacific Ocean encompasses about 62.5 million square miles. It has double the area and more than double the water volume of the Atlantic Ocean—the next largest division of the hydrosphere—and its area more than exceeds that of the whole land surface of the globe. The Pacific Ocean stretches nearly 9,000 miles. Its greatest latitudinal extent measures some 12,000 miles.

The mean depth of the Pacific is 14,040 feet, and its greatest known depth is 36,201 feet—in the Mariana Trench—also the greatest depth found in any ocean. What?

If you have ever dived down to the bottom of the deep end of a swimming pool to retrieve a rock, you swam anywhere from 8 ft to 12 ft to the bottom. Let’s say 12 ft. To swim to the floor of the Pacific Ocean on average, you will need to make that trip 1,008 times to reach the bottom.

In miles, the average depth of the Pacific Ocean is 2.7 miles (by my math). And that’s not “the all” of God’s love. That’s only part of what He has created.

The Lord on High is Mighty

Psalm 107 says that God spoke and stirred up a tempest. A very violent storm: an extensive current of wind, rushing with great velocity and violence, and commonly attended with rain, hail, or snow; a furious gale; a hurricane.

Psalm 93:4

4 Mightier than the thunder of the great waters,

    mightier than the breakers of the sea—

    the Lord on high is mighty.

Sailing is about moving. Not stopping. No wind is a problem. Steering becomes a problem. And it doesn’t take very many words to align being a strong sailor with being strong in a mighty Lord. No one can calm a tempest on open water, but God can. On that note, my son is grateful he has been able to sleep.

He texted: “While sleeping, it’s bumpy and when the bow crashes it sounds like a boom! You get used to it. If you had a video goggle set and played a rollercoaster ride while in your bunk with earphones, the simulation would be perfect. We’ve hit rain several times, short bursts of squalls. I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to sleep, that was actually my biggest fear because being exhausted could easily lead to sea sickness, which I have not had.”

And to that, Paul says:

Ephesians 6:10

Finally, be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power.

A Salty Sea Story To Tell

The last text from him before I recorded this was that he had seen an albatross, and the bird’s shadow across the main sail, the first time the Skipper let him take the helm. And all of a sudden, the Ancient Mariner entered this world he and I share, the same world I have been talking about.

Again, I pray for his connection to his Creator, and that his experience in the deep nurtures the depth of my love for a merciful, mighty God.

An albatross rarely comes ashore. In fact, the only time they ever return to land is to reproduce. Before they are old enough to breed, some birds might not step foot on land for up to 10 years.

He saw an albatross. He sailed with the bird God created with a 12-ft wingspan to live on open water.

It is a 2,225 mile journey. And we are 5,000 miles apart. We are a text apart. From the Pacific to the Atlantic. Ocean to ocean. Son to mother. (not mother to son) But this communication is fragile. For both of us. It must be efficient in how we connect.

My son will have His salty sea story to tell. His first open water ocean voyage to anchor him. It will change him. Through God’s transforming nature. I won’t know first-hand the experience of how he will change… in all that water. But I know he will know more about God’s love, how deep it is. How could you not?

I pray he echoes the words of King David.

Psalm 73:28

But as for me, the nearness of God is my good;

I have made the Lord God my refuge,

That I may tell of all Your works.

At this point he is early in the journey having traveled about 630 miles as I record. As a mother I remain anxious, restless, prayerful. And navigating my own spirit-sail through this. What will I have learned when he sails into his home port?

Will I have seen the shadow of an albatross on my sail? Episode 43.