The following excerpt is from my time aboard a ship:
The biggest perk of this job is what naturally drifts by as we make our way from port to port. The sunsets, and depending on the schedule, the sunrises, can be a spectacular way to finish a workday. Coffee breaks sitting atop the aft house with some of Shirley’s fresh cookies are a superb way to watch the world go by. Open water is a vast and fascinating sight. The colors of the sky are vivid, the wind is clean, and it’s proof that the world is wide open. It reminds me that I’ve spent way too many years indoors.
Sometimes I look out the porthole in my room and am taken by the beauty of the water, and by the fact that I made it here. I’ve learned about my strengths and weaknesses. I’ve found good people most everywhere. At times I wonder if that’s ultimately what I’m seeking. I’m working with strangers on a daily basis, living in cramped quarters and eating side by side to discover who they are. The dismal existence of corporate America has drained more from me than I can measure. Being here is part of rebuilding me, and discovering who I am after where I’ve been.
Ron works in the engine room. Well over six feet tall, he has a bushy head of black hair and a face which holds no expression most of the time. His speech is slow, but adequate in getting his point across. He’s friendly, knows his job inside and out, and is a hard worker. Early on, it was explained to me that Ron had been in an accident. There were no details about what happened, how long ago, or where. The only solid information was that there had been an accident which caused impairment.
At the end of the day, we are all dirty, and Ron is no exception. Due to his responsibilities with the conveyor system, his coveralls are usually decorated with an extra helping of grease. He puts them through the wash, often with less than stellar results. Later, he hangs his coveralls on a railing where the heat of the engines dries them overnight. This is a common practice; most guys hang their work clothes to dry.
At midnight, the engineer on duty takes Ron’s coveralls and runs them though the washer a second time. Afterwards, they are placed back on the railing. This is not on the official list of duties. There is no managerial directive for this endeavor. Ron is not aware it is happening.
This has an impact on me that I hadn’t expected. With the back-drop of massive engines noisily churning, a man takes time to find the rumpled coveralls. No fanfare. No big deal; just some spot-treatment and an extra helping of detergent. I’d expected the engine room to be filled with gruff and harsh individuals. This is a behavior I hadn’t considered.
Growing up as a Chaplain’s kid, I’ve seen more than my share of pageantry. There was always someone who wanted recognition for their deeds, an attitude that’s not scriptural. It’s inappropriate to showcase compassion. Benevolence is not reason for a parade, it’s a quiet event. The engine room staff understands this. Is there a faith system or doctrine in place here? I don’t know, but I doubt it. Every night, amidst the aroma of diesel fuel and the roar of industrial machinery, a man silently helps another. Walking out of the control room, up the steep stairs and across the metal grid of catwalks to retrieve the coveralls, he then makes his way to the laundry room. Fluorescent lights vibrating overhead, a healthy scoop of detergent lands in an old Maytag.
Where is God in kindness? Where is God in cruelty? Ron is soundly asleep, and three decks below, a man is standing at a washing machine with his coveralls. I don’t know if this Maytag, smudged with grease and oil, is a divinely appointed device. Maybe it is, because it causes me to grapple with theology and my attitudes. At times I’m angry that I’ve not worked with people like this before, and that I’ve not considered some of the questions spinning through my head. Frequently, I’m relieved that I’ve discovered this unlikely place. The sound of coveralls agitating at midnight poses a mystery that keeps me wide awake with speculation, and sometimes puts me comfortably to sleep.
