This past weekend at the ocean I watched a kite surfer wrestling the wind and waves. He appeared to be an amateur, the sea violently sloshing him around. I was seriously concerned for his safety.

“I hope a shark doesn’t get him,” said Scott, who sat in the truck beside me on a windswept Bodega Bay bluff overlooking the beach where the kiteboarder struggled alone.

“I can’t believe he’s doing that by himself. He needs major help,” I said. A storm was passing through. The wind howled. Waves rolled huge. Nobody was on the beach but him.

After a particularly bad run at trying to surf… I thought he was going to die… he finally trudged out of the waves dragging his long kite behind him. He spent about thirty minutes on the beach messing with his equipment. Scott and I hoped he would call it a day. But pretty soon he headed back out in the water after seriously adjusting his sail.

To our complete surprise, he then kite surfed like a professional.

“That guy knows what he’s doing,” said Scott.

“He’s amazing,” I responded. I could not believe he soared across the tumultuous sea after fixing his sail. Pretty soon we could hardly see him out there flying around that great blue ocean.

Driving home, I didn’t think much about the kitesurfer. Instead, I was fighting my own battle with the wind… the wind of the Holy Spirit…

We’d ended up at the ocean on Saturday because of our colicky baby. Our original destination was a wedding in Santa Rosa, but Christian had been so fussy we had to leave the ceremony before it hardly began. On our way out of town, we drove by the lovely hotel we’d had reservations at for the weekend of the wedding, which was also our 22nd wedding anniversary, but the power surge that damaged our house last month also drained our finances so we had to cancel the hotel room.

On top of that, one of our cars is in the shop and our other car needs repairs we can’t afford to make right now. We’ve got dental bills and doctor bills. Bug problems and gopher issues. Early morning often finds me in the yard in my pajamas with a shovel and a can of poison chasing the rodents digging up our lawn. This after a night of not much sleep with the baby. Clearly, I’m taking my frustration out on the gophers. The other day I had my brother over here with smoke bombs. We dropped mini sticks of dynamite down the gopher holes. The next morning one of those critters had the nerve to pop his head up outside my bedroom window at six a.m. I think he might have been puffing one of our smoke bombs like a cigar. I nearly went after him with the baby at my breast.

Other things more serious are getting to me. I’ve stopped reading the news about all the natural disasters and I call my prayer partners more than ever. People I love here are hurting as well. There is so much to pray about these days…

This past Sunday in church we sang a song, “My faith shall be my eyes.” This line so resonated with me. The Holy Spirit has been after me lately to speak God’s truth instead of voicing defeat. To say things like, “I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength,” instead of mindlessly repeating, “I’m so tired.”

On Monday during prayer time with one of my prayer partners, as she was praying for me, the Lord brought to mind that kite surfer. The kite surfer’s problem wasn’t that he didn’t know how to surf. He was very good at surfing. The problem was his equipment. He needed to regear himself to the wind that was stronger due to the storm. Once he got his sails in order, the turbulent sea became his dance floor.

The Lord is telling me to set my sails in accordance with His Holy Spirit. I need to speak the Word of God over this life with faith and trust and patience. More than ever, it is faith that will see us through in troubled times.