I could swim circles around the older men but, I have to tell you, I was scared. Such storms were rare and I wanted nothing to do with it. Our ship rolled from side to side, at times putting my ear to the lake. The rain blinded me and I rowed clenching my teeth. The waves were tall as men and the sky was black. I felt sick. I wanted the Master before me. I felt that if he were with us, all would be well. He had made a place for me among the older men. He made me a disciple, defended me against the pranks and wisecracks of my fellows. He encouraged me in my studies. I wanted him there, I needed him there. I prayed but the devil whipped me about like the waves, telling me that for all my desire to be like my Master, I was deserted and would die young and unfulfilled.

Thomas in front of me, prayed aloud, “Merciful God, take me to land and I will stand as a righteous man. I will stand upright and serve your will.”

Behind me, the zealot answered, “I will prostrate myself and kiss the earth.”

“Damn it all,” Peter shouted. “Row! Row! Are you men or housewives?”

The rain stopped but the winds were wild and angry. Yet, my eyes could just make out the dim beacons of Capernaum. Even so, I wished the Master was with us. I did not feel safe. Peter's plan seemed reckless. Rowing through a storm did not seem very smart even if we weren't that far away. I have to confess, my terror eased with the sight of land, although it still seemed too far. I opened my mouth to call out and a wave hit me in the side of my head, washing away the words before they could be spoken. My side of the ship raised up and our ship was thrown on one side so that I lost my grip on the oar. I fell and hit my head hard on the mast. Peter caught me and held me in place. Then, we were sideways. We no longer faced the shore. We floundered as I was passed to other arms.

James said, “I have you, brother.” They were words of pure comfort.

The bow reared up, stood like a beast on its hind feet. Then, it fell. Cold water covered us. I think all of us cried out. We came up and steadied in the driving wind. James stood me on my feet, put my arms through the ropes. Peter grabbed my clothing with his free hand and pulled me close. Then, I saw something. I pushed my head close to my hands and rubbed my eyes. I looked again. I thought I was seeing things when another called out in alarm.

“There!”

Peter called back, “I see it.”

James, behind me, asked, “What is it?”

Thomas pulled himself forward, then called back, “It looks like a man.”

“Impossible,” Peter said.

“Is it a spirit?” asked Bartholomew.

Thomas yelled above the wind, “I don't believe it.”

Thomas stumbled back to us and Peter loosened his grip on me to move up. He gripped the bow with both of his large hands. He turned and called back to us, “I see him.”

It was dark. It was windy. I held onto the ropes of the mast with both hands as I was thrown back and forth. My heart beat in my chest and my head throbbed painfully. As James stumbled forward, the wind blew water into my eyes. I blinked and saw Matthias fall beside Peter. Then I lurched forward between Philip and Levi. I found my brother's shoulders and held on. I saw Peter reach an arm out into the waves. It all seemed unreal. My head was spinning and I found it more than difficult to focus my eyes on one thing but I clearly remember seeing another hand reach forth and grasp that of Peter's.

I called out, “Master.” Then all went dark.

It was still when I awoke. There were stars in the sky. I heard the voices of my fellows as they were far away. I looked up into the eyes of my Master as he pulled back my wet hair and inspected my head with a smile. My head was in his lap as if I was again a small boy in need of comfort. I did not mind but I could not be so forever though I desired it. I blinked away the fog and sat up to look about. We were docked; we were home. James sat nearby and smiled. As the others left, even while Peter checked the knots, Jesus took me by the shoulders and brought me to my feet.

“You have overcome,” he said. “Go home.”

I felt better on the morrow. It was the Sabbath and James prepared himself. I sat up and listened to our home. Father and Mother had already gone. I saw the light from the open window and knew I was late. I rushed to my brother's side and prepared for Synagogue. He smiled at me but had no words. It was outside, as we walked in the sun, that he spoke.

“You look better. How is your head?” he asked.

I turned to him, touched my head, and winced. “It hurts,” I replied.

“I feared for you,” said James. “What a night.”

As we came to the open door, we met a group of men who pushed past us. I recognized them from the previous day. They were the Jews who followed Jesus and they seemed angry. I looked to my brother and saw that he, too, recognized the men. We knew that with those men came trouble. They pressed my Lord at every turn and set themselves against him in a manner that was unseemly for priests. We followed them in and watched as they stormed past the women and pushed their way through the men. We followed past the women and entered the congregation as Jesus looked up from the scrolls and met their rage with calm disregard.