We had recently returned from a sailing vacation. Our family spent two weeks sailing west from Cleveland to Port Huron, Michigan and home again. It was territory that we had never sailed before and the longest cruise we had ever made with our five children.

As we started out from Detroit the morning we were to cross Lake St. Clair, the skies clouded over. An hour later, it grew ominous. There was no where to run for shelter--a sailboat does not get anywhere in a hurry. In the shallow waters of St. Clair, we would take a chance of running aground if we got too far from the shipping channel and into unfamiliar waters.

"If worse comes to worse," my husband said, "We’ll anchor and ride it out." We donned our rain gear and sent our kids below into the cabin. Looking at the 45 foot "lightening rod" holding our sail up, we said a silent prayer.

Skies darkened. Thunder reverberated. Suddenly, the wind died completely. We lowered the sails and started the engine as rain began to pour straight down on us. We waited expectantly for the wind and waves to grow stronger.

Thunder continued all around us in low rumbling echoes making it difficult to know which direction the storm was moving. The rain reduced visibility to a mile and we had difficulty seeing where the next channel marker was. We moved on as if in a protective bubble, awed by our circumstances and in continued prayer.

The wind never grew stronger. The seas remained tranquil. In the midst of all the severe weather, we moved on, surrounded by a quiet peaceful calm, truly safe in the hollow of His hand.