FAITH

There it is.

Janice Anne Wheeler Jan 11

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Thirty degrees above average with a barely discernible morning breeze, my morning routine was a treasure in January, even under leaden skies. A friend deems our mutual sunrise rituals The Church of the Rising Sun, allowing us to feel grateful for each and every day, starting fresh, fortunate and energized, whether it’s from Mother Nature or some other force. That day, I was the only person in sight as drake mallards jousted, hens preened and gulls bickered. I usually returned via the shortest route, craving that first hot, sweet coffee, but today I didn’t, today I turned toward the harbor entrance, toward STEADFAST, and walked along the dormant, weedy, windblown waterfront; when I looked up and focused, there she was. FAITH.

FAITH is one of the smallest, mightiest-looking tug boats I’ve encountered; her category of working vessels are tremendously respect-worthy and I marvel as they guide hundreds of times their own displacement with a reassuring roar of engines and chugs of dark, lingering exhaust from cartoon-like smokestacks while knowledgeable Captains dive hard into their responsibilities. Tugs are a constant, reassuring presence on waterways worldwide.

Tugging gently (oh, yes, pun intended) on the impressive, slightly frayed nylon lines that kept her snug to the dock, she was bow to bow with what I assumed was her charge, an aging US Coast Guard YP Vessel which was sporting blue icicle holiday lights along its substantial length. Spirit finds its way no matter the place or circumstances.

As I tend to do with everything that captures my attention, I walked closer, lingered a bit before returning to my routine. I’ve been thinking about FAITH ever since and the next morning, my brain woke up at a ridiculous hour, as it often does. I tossed countless times, reached over and pulled this trusty, now-dusty, Mac out and started typing these words, as always not sure where they might roam.

My phone vibrated at 4:29am. This morning’s early missive brought tears to my just-focused eyes but they were the good kind, the appreciative kind, from one of those angels who walk the earth among us, writing to send strength and love when remembering my father, because she knows that sometimes the pain can outweigh the good memories, at least momentarily. Her belief is strong and people like her increase my faith in humanity at a time on our planet when it’s hard to comprehend or justify what people are doing to each other for power or money or stature.

Six years ago that very morning, a wee-hour ring from the nursing home conveyed that they had taken my father to the hospital at the very beginning of what would be his last day on earth. We who loved him had enough faith to know it was his time. The memory brings tears. I’m sure my brow crinkled as I read it, knowing that those communications are generally bad news, such as when the doctor receives a test result but doesn’t want to talk about it on the phone, needs you to make an appointment, show up, create a plan; you know that kind of news or, actually, if you’re truly lucky, you don’t know that kind.

I’m having one of those weeks, I guess, because tears threatened to spill another evening at dinner, when conversation and commonalities led me to discover a true soulmate, another angel whose life path could not be more different or more the same than my own. Another strong woman who has enough faith in her own judgement to make decisions most folks shy away from.

The next day, I retraced my steps to see FAITH in the bright sunshine, double stacks polished. I wondered where she and her namesake were headed next, and where we were headed next.

The third morning I awoke predawn, with promising color on the eastern horizon, and donned my layers. The sunrise was incredible, Mother Nature’s best hues reflected on the near-mirror calm of the Choptank River.

I lingered, again, watching the ethereal sky and many of the same creatures I view each time; only the Great Blue Herons and the Osprey are wise enough to migrate south as the leaves fall. I’m wise enough, too, but you know this, circumstances restrain.

I heard the chugging, first, echoing above the din of Canada Geese in multi-V formation overhead. They overwinter here in a climate much milder than their namesake and I’m guessing that some flock or other, way back, asked, “Why, exactly, do we go any further than this just to fly all the way back in the spring (FFS)??” And so they stay and procreate, making ample target practice and delicious meals for a myriad of hunters; shotguns echo across these same waters most mornings.

And then, I saw a tug silhouetted against the brightening sky, creating a glowing wake while seemingly not even disturbing the peaceful surface. She was larger, but with the same lines, designs, stacks and presence of her counterpart. I snapped a photo, amused, intrigued.

That day, was a stronger FAITH required? As it turns out, it was.

I may be a tad crazy (batshit crazy, in fact) to place such impact on a name and a crossing of paths; if so, I’m comfortable with that. A more powerful version of FAITH had shown up, as if on cue, as I was leaving to go on with my day, and, just two hours later, when an unexpected friend stopped by, I had enough belief, enough faith in humanity or whatever, for both of us, I think, in the face of unexpected, awful loss.

In that instance faith supported me when I lost a friend, that very day, without being able to say goodbye; we had the faith, and hold the understanding, that it was his time and that he had, somehow, taken part in the decision even though we selfishly still want him around. And always will. It’s that way with the people you love and respect.

Sometimes, while you may not know when or where or why, you need a stronger FAITH. ~J

See you next week, my faithful audience. I recommend spending a little time with someone you love; it’s been a rough week here, loss and lessons and shit.

Thank you for staying aboard. Next week— oh, yeah, see what we got done… !!….

© 2026 Janice Anne Wheeler
Living aboard Sailing Yacht STEADFAST again soon!
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