“We received a call from the yacht club president, informing us someone left a sailboat on their dock and it needed to be removed… Are you the owner of this vessel? What’s your name!”  The officer asked removing a notepad from his coat.

I gave him my information and let him know I tried to ask someone about docking but there was no one around.

“Well, there is someone around, the president, and he wants this vessel moved immediately!”

I reminded the officer about the incoming storm…

“Well…”he responded, “looks like you have a dilemma, but at any rate, you have to move this boat now!”

I asked the officer if he could give me the president’s phone number so I could apologize and explain our situation in light of the coming storm.

“He won’t give out his number, you’ll have to call the commodore.”

The officer handed me a small piece of paper with a phone number written on it.  I dialed the number and waited anxiously for someone to answer the phone.  Finally, after several attempts, someone did answer: “This is Keith, Yacht Commodore, can I help you…”

I apologized for having used his dock, and explained our dilemma considering the oncoming storm.

“If I don’t call you back, don’t worry about it.”  Came a surprising response from the commodore .

Hours past and no call back…  Eventually the storm came, and it was as bad as predicted, however, we remained nice and warm inside Aleph Tav.  The snow storm left the sea very rough and the wind remained dangerously high.  As a result, we had to wait several more days, and still, no call from the commodore.

During our extended stay, we took the opportunity to do some much needed grocery shopping.  When we were done, Gabriel and I stuffed a large garbage barrel with grocery bags and placed it on a small dolly.  We had a very long walk ahead of us.

A Muslim woman walked all the way across the grocery store in our direction.  “Where are you heading ?…” She asked.

I just looked at her and said nothing, while trying to figure out what she wanted.

“Where are you going?…” She continued to inquire.

“I’m not sure I understand what you mean…” I answered, prepared to firmly keep that information to myself.

“The grocery bags in the barrel… the dolly… Your coats… Your walking… I don’t have the heart to let you walk away in the cold without giving you a ride.  Never mind: wait right here, I’ll have one of my workers take you.  You can tell her where your going.”

The woman called one of the cashier over to us,  “Take them where ever they are going.  You can go on break when you come back.”  She instructed.  The cashier was not very talkative, she simply drove us as we directed her to Aleph Tav.

Finally, a small window in the weather opened up, with yet another storm coming in 24 hours.  On our way out, I called the commodore to thank him.  “No problem at all”. He continued; “My son is a pastor and he does humanitarian work like you in Jamaica.  I told the club officers, we don’t get many chances to do humanitarian work out here, so they appreciated the opportunity.  God bless you, have a safe trip…”

We headed out onto a smooth sea as the sun began to set.  Not our favorite time to be out to sea, but it was the only 24 hour window we had according to the coastguard and all the weather forecasters.  Well, all that is but ONE… The One who said: “The wind blows where it pleases.  You hear it’s sound, but you cannot tell where it comes from or where it is going…”  And THAT, unfortunately for us, was the accurate weather report…

To be continued