the rolling sea

One hot summer, when I was a little girl- and don’t ask me the year because I’m not sure – we spent time in Goderich with my Grandma and Grandpa Brubacher.  Their big, red brick, house seemed immense to me as a little girl. The grand staircase in the front, the sun room at the back and the dining room in between with a table that stretched for miles and accommodated our large family  – it all made for the best “Grandma’s house” ever.

But, that summer, it wasn’t the house that I remember as much as the trip to Lake Huron. My parents loaded us up in the family station wagon and we went to the beach for a swim with a bunch of other Brubachers – I don’t remember exactly who.

I do remember that I went out into the lake with my mum and her youngest brother, my Uncle David.  We swam out to the deep where I couldn’t touch and we jumped the waves.  And there were big ones.  Well, big to me – this tiny, probably 3 foot tall person who’d never been for a swim in the lake before, certainly not out that deep.

It was the best time a little girl could have on a hot summer day.   I was a fairly good swimmer, but I didn’t have to worry  about the waves one way or the other because I knew my mum or my uncle would keep me safe, above the fray.  My confidence was they would catch me no matter how the lake swelled and rolled.

Recently, I had pause to remember all of those waves while playing through this old hymn at my Uncle’s funeral.  I’ve sung these words hundreds of times – and they are so familiar  that I know all four stanzas by heart.

When peace like a river attendeth my way, when sorrows like sea billows roll.  Whatever my lot, thou hast taught me to say, it is well, it is well with my soul.

Never in my life have I felt plunged beneath heavy waves of grief like now.  Newly, I understand what the writer meant by sea billows of sorrow. In my lifetime, I’ve lost three grandparents and my precious GG, but none of those deaths have brought so much sadness.  The sorrow I’ve experienced is just like those Lake Huron waves rolling – tugging me down to the depths. Then, without warning they thrust me upward and just as I think I’ve caught my breath I’m thrown down again – jerked around without any control over the emotions that roll and swell.

But, I’m reminded that I can have that same confidence that I had as a child – not in my mum or my uncle this time – but, in my Savior.  He has made it well. That is his promise.  He is able to calm the raging sea of anguish in my heart.  He is the ultimate peace giver, even when the storm is threatening to ravage my soul again.

Regularly, this brief Scripture has brought calm to my heart and mind when I need it most:

from Psalm 34:

Why does it matter that He is near?  It matters because He alone knows – He knows my story because He wrote it.  It matters because He understands – He bore all of my suffering when He died on the cross.  And It matters because He is able to give peace that is beyond understanding, and no one else can do that – He is the prince of peace.

Especially when the water is deep and I can’t touch, I know He will keep me safe in the waves.  I know His loving arms will rescue me and lift me above the rolling sea.