In the Bunk

There's a phrase at sea, "in the bunk," which means a crew member is off watch and sleeping. If you've ever been crew, you may know that delicious feeling of being in the bunk when the vessel gets underway. 

The steady drone of the engine and the rocking motion of the ship make the blankets and pillows a comfortable cradle to snuggle a little deeper into. It's not just the snuggliness that is a special, but the temporary reprieve from responsibility. 

(Now a little reality check: Being in the bunk is not always so pleasant. I remember one weekend this past spring when the ship violently rolled up the west coast in a gale. I couldn't do anything except miserably lay on my bunk, sucking saltine crackers. I wondered how I ever imagined going to sea was a good idea, and planned escape routes to alternative careers).

But let me get back to the times when I happily snuggle down and roll-over to go back to sleep after hearing the engines roll over in preparation for departure. How I feel in my bunk depends on who is at the wheel. Good Captain? Good Officer on watch? Then I trust and rest well.

I was thinking about this image recently because my fourth year of studies (for the Watchkeeping Officer ticket) has been a hang-on-tight ride. The winds of tests and assignment deadlines are relentless. Its hard to keep ahead against the current, already behind from lost time due to Covid interruptions. The weight of the tasks which must be accomplished in the next month is daunting.

If my life is a ship, my response to this stormy semester has been to run to the Bridge to try and take both watches, as if the answer is just buckling down and putting in more effort. More hours of work, shorter nights. But even this has a limit, and I end up running ragged, and the micromanaging steals my peace. 

I heard this week:

"If we try on our own strength, how is God glorified?"

I need to take to my bunk and rest, physically and mentally. On this ship of life, I need to remember that my Captain is trustworthy. I can rest deeply, knowing God has everything under control. He is not flustered or concerned. He is perfectly calm and knows exactly the timing of how things will unfold.

Best of all, if I trust God to take the "con", as we say in short form for "conduct" on the Bridge, then at the end of the voyage I cannot claim I did it on my own strength. He will get the glory for at the peak of success when I reach the final destination. But He also gets the glory at each waypoint throughout the voyage. 

So before I sign off to go snuggle down in my bunk for a rest, let me look aft for a moment and give glory for some of the things in this ship's wake. 

Midterms are done and the marks were good. 

Friendships across the country continue to grow with phone calls and texts. 

Student leadership is a privilege I enjoy, especially the interactions with the first year cadets.

Fall in Cape Breton has been beautiful, with sunny walks highlighting the last of the yellow leaves, not to mention the late wild apples and cranberries I have discovered.

And I have been growing in my faith, because this semester has been pushing the capacity of my own resources, and I am learning. to. just. trust.

One of the many bunks I have found rest in over the last few years.