French Wells, Bahamas

0 nm
Wind: NE 20-25 knots
Seas: flat calm in protected harbor

We’re dallying on the boat today, reading, not talking much, and enjoying being home. Most of the housekeeping is done after our hard work of yesterday afternoon, and today is recuperation time. Just like some of our days back in Massachusetts, when we sat around and tried to figure out how to live on the boat, today is about quality time. Sometimes we need to remind ourselves of exactly who we are and why we’re living in this way: today is one of those days. I’m a little worried about our forthcoming vacation from the boat, and I feel the need to store up for myself treasure in my heart--the sound of the wind whistling in the rigging, the slow wobble of the boat as she drifts up with the tide, the warm glow of the sun beating through the companionway, the comfort and peace of sitting across from Karl, both of us reading, and not saying a word for hours.

It’s windier than expected today, probably the unexpected effect of a cold front moving in north of us, and I’m glad we have a second empty day to spend out here. We have a lot of work to do on deck, but it seems to be gusting over 25 knots today, and we can’t exactly do it in that wind. My wish list for the States just keeps getting longer--every time I do anything around here I think of about three things I need to buy that’ll help make our life easier. I had lost track of time a little bit and thought we had to row back tomorrow, but we’ll spend an extra day out here. I’ve been dutifully laying out in the sun and swimming, trying to store up as many good feelings I can to ward off the effects of the cold and wintery north.

I’ve been praying a lot, too. I have a hard time, sometimes, writing about my faith, because I fear people’s wildly divergent attitudes towards it. I believe, though, that our sojourn on Crooked Island has been an answer to prayer, and I believe too that our decision to leave Secret alone is another answer to prayer. I wouldn’t be doing it if I didn’t believe that that was the direction in which God was guiding our steps. We have to learn how to leave Secret alone if we’re to live the type of life we desire, and we have to have faith that God will take care of her while we’re gone. We simply can’t allot the budget that other people would be able to for professional care. So leaving her is a necessary choice.

I’m worried, too, about what a visit to the States will do to us. Will it make us change our minds? We’ve been living so healthily down here: we eat two or three cans of corned beef a week, and that’s our meat allotment, other than fresh seafood. We live off vegetables, rice, eggs, bread, and cheese. How are we going to deal with the American diet of fast and processed food? What about television? Are we going to be able to withstand its evil pull? I pray that we’ll be able to use our visit the way we need to, for focused time with our families, necessary boat tasks, and work, and for nothing else. It’s dangerous, this country to which we belong, fraught with peril. How do all of you survive?