Water Cake and the Widow of Zarephath

I was so blessed to get to share a different version of this story in Guideposts magazine this summer! So grateful for that opportunity. Here is the original.

His Spirit Over the Waters

“Are you sure?” My husband Tom asked.

“Yep,” I answered confidently. “I’ll go.”

Excitement and determination bubbled up to push my usual fear out of the way. Despite all that had happened, God’s gentle peace had settled in my heart. I wrestled into a wetsuit.

It had been a long year for all of us. In fact, for me, it had been five long years of loss after loss. I lost my job in the pandemic and faced the deaths of some of my closest loved ones, due to a variety of causes. Like waves hitting the beach one after another, I felt pounded, smacked to the ground, and knocked a bit off course.

Then, unexpectedly, I lost my beautiful sister-in-law of nearly thirty years to covid. Michelle and I had talked often about being old together some day, caring for our parents-in-law and watching our kids grow up. She was funny and outspoken, an amazing aunt to my children and a dear friend to me. How could she possibly be gone?

Milestones after her passing were confusing and bittersweet. She died the day before her 50^th birthday, right before Easter. Her wedding anniversary, her middle child’s birthday, and Mother’s Day all followed closely behind. I wanted to celebrate, but it hurt.

Then came a summer milestone. For decades, my husband’s family has gone to the beach together each year. Michelle loved that tradition. While most of us came to spend a weekend or week, she often stayed a month.

When she passed away in March, our family already had sites reserved for June. Yet I waffled. How could we go without her? I eventually decided it was better for our family to grieve together than apart. So, I went, missing her cooking, missing her laughter. . . missing her.

Yet, in that peaceful, tranquil place, I found joy. The rising morning sun painted the gray sky pink, and Tom and I searched tidepools for jellyfish and sea stars. The ocean tossed the remains of sand dollars on shore, and we took them as souvenirs. Our dog ran and played with the others, pulling at his leash. We told jokes and old stories sitting around the campfire and dinner table with the family.

After so much suffering, my heart had broken in bits. Yet, surrounded by the artistry of God’s creation, including people who loved me, I wanted to thrive again. I had just turned fifty years old. I wanted the second half of my life to be vibrant and meaningful like the first. I wanted to live each day like it mattered. That was the condition of my heart when my brother-in-law Charlie asked Tom if I wanted to go out on the water with them.

My husband knows I am not into watersports. I don’t swim well. I’ve never waterskied, surfed, kayaked, or snorkeled. I don’t even like to fly in planes over water. Tom also knew they weren’t going out in the type of boat that has deck chairs and a galley. They were fishing from a 10-foot rigid inflatable. The interior is two feet shorter—the size of a large couch. So, the glassy green-blue water we had walked beside, the powerful seals and sea lions hunting and playing, and the towering seaweed waving gracefully from the ocean floor would all be beneath us while we rode in a dinghy filled with air.

I’m glad he asked me. Despite my fears and phobias, I was learning to look—and fight—for silver linings. So, there at the water’s edge, I faced another decision. Would I stay in my pain? Or push myself into a new adventure?

I put on that wetsuit.

“You’re sure?” he asked.

“You got me?”

“I got you.”
“Then, I’m sure.”

Like Tom, his brothers Paul and Charlie are experienced divers who assured me they would rescue me if necessary. So, we all headed down the beach.

Arriving at the cove where our watercraft rested on the dry sand, they explained a bit about what we would need to do. I grabbed a handle to help drag the boat to the water and was shocked at how heavy it was. It was small and filled with air, but certainly heavier than our couch. They set it afloat and let me get in first, and then swam out to join me. As the motor started, I was a little terrified. Even in the shallows, though, I was already seeing the sea in a way I never had before. The Bible says that in the earliest days of creation, God’s spirit hovered over the waters. He created the oceans and filled them with creatures. Being on top of the water instead of beside it, seeing its brilliance in a different way, gave me new appreciation for the complexity of life within the sea he made.

Photo credit: Michelle Throssel

Our first stop was to inspect the crab pot my brother-in-law had set earlier that morning. As we bobbed alongside it, I straddled the edge of our boat like the guys did, one leg inside and the other trailing in the water. The sun on my face was warm enough to offset the chill of the frigid water.

“About how deep is it here?” I asked, curious.

All three men looked at me hesitantly. My brother-in-law Paul finally answered. “You don’t want to know.”

My heart beat a little faster till he reminded me, “Don’t worry. If anything happens, we’ll get you out.”

“Your wetsuit will make you float,” Tom offered. “You won’t sink.” I tried to think positively; I didn’t want any more tragedy.

After the crab pots were restocked with bait, we traveled to where the fish had been biting, near a rocky island that jutted from the water. To get there, we fought strong wind and choppy waves. I grew nauseous, despite the acupressure wristbands that had worked fine until then. Salty water soaked my hair and ran down my face. My husband repositioned himself in front of me, kindly taking the hardest blasts of spray against himself.

At the rock, Charlie shut off the motor and handed out fishing poles. We quickly put lines in the water. It scarcely took any time at all for the men to begin pulling up fish, a black rockfish and some sleek ling cod. They may have looked spiky and ugly to others. To me, they were grand.

The current was swift, and we had been pulled back near the crab pots almost immediately, the rock already fifty yards away. We set our poles carefully back in the middle of the boat, and swung our legs back inside, careful to avoid the fish and gear. Then, the motor began again, charging back to the island. Again, nausea. Again, my chivalrous husband blocking waves. Again, quick maneuvers to drop lines and start fishing as we floated backwards. Again and again, we repeated the cycle, driving to the rock and then drifting over the schools of aquatic creatures below. Finally, I brought in the biggest fish I’d ever caught, which was still small enough to force his return to the water to swim away.

I got back to camp a bit tired and dizzy, but exhilarated. I had spent so much of the past five years in sorrow. I hadn’t realized how much I needed to breathe and let go and have fun again.

Afterwards, I was told I was the first woman in the family to have ever gone out to sea with the men. My sister-in-law Jenn decided that if I could, she could. . . and she went out the next day. Like me, she pushed herself beyond her comfort zone to have a priceless moment she hadn’t planned.

Our beach trips have been chronicled in decades of photographs. An early one shows Michelle and I with our husbands and in-laws, her two oldest children in diapers, and Paul in a wetsuit. One of the latest now shows me in a wetsuit, with fifty-year old wrinkles, my handsome husband beside me, out on the boat with that 18-inch ling cod I caught. A huge smile is on my face.

Honestly, I don’t know if I will ever go out to sea again. Yet, I am pleased with myself—not for catching the biggest fish, but for getting in the boat. I can’t fix the state of the world or keep my friends and family from dying. Grief and sorrow are a part of this life. Yet, I still need to live the time God has given me and not waste a bit of it in worry.

Psalm 89 says of God, “You rule the raging of the sea; when its waves rise, you still them.” He who rules the raging of the sea is calming storms in my heart. Even until the day I’m beside the glassy sea in Heaven with Michelle, I’ll trust Him.