Winter Approaches

Nothing to do but wait out the gale.

This morning’s view reminds me how close we are to “the Door,” that is, Door County, Wisconsin, which sticks its narrow finger out into Lake Michigan with cold, cold lake water on each side.

Door County is a touristy area in the summer and fall, with spectacular views of water and fall color displays and boat tours. I hear there are ample gift shoppes, too. I’ve not actually been up there very much myself, except for one trip a few years ago in grey March. I stayed in an Airbnb not far from the Fincantieri shipyards in Sturgeon Bay and marveled that you can walk almost right up to the docked ships in for refurbishment and repairs and see them towering above you.

Although it was in the 30s while I was there, it was a cold far colder than any other, because of the nearby water and the gloom.

I loved it.

Winter and cancer both strip away all the uneccessaries and set hard, clear boundaries. They both make saying no easier. I’m sorry, we can’t, there’s ice predicted. I’m sorry, we can’t, my husband began chemotherapy this week.

You can’t negotiate with a November gale on the Great Lakes. And you can’t negotiate with cancer. I normally attack challenges with information, research, and a plan. My plan. “If the wind will not serve, use the oars,” is the only cutesy home decor sign in my living room. But all the tools and plans for attacking my husband’s cancer are utterly in the hands of God and the experts He’s gifted with science and medicine. I feel adrift even when I know that I am not. There’s nothing for me to do but to wait out the terrible November gale we find ourselves in.

I’m not good at waiting.

Some went down to the sea in ships,
    doing business on the great waters;
they saw the deeds of the Lord,
    his wondrous works in the deep.
For he commanded and raised the stormy wind,
    which lifted up the waves of the sea.
They mounted up to heaven; they went down to the depths;
    their courage melted away in their evil plight;
they reeled and staggered like drunken men
    and were at their wits’ end.
Then they cried to the Lord in their trouble,
    and he delivered them from their distress.
He made the storm be still,
    and the waves of the sea were hushed.
Then they were glad that the waters were quiet,
    and he brought them to their desired haven.

 Psalm 107:23-30

Gingko leaves, my favorite fall leaves, adrift in a puddle.