Remembering the Rhythm of Life on Deck
The Rev. Geoffrey Davis — Chaplain, Ministry on the River, Lower Mississippi & Gulf Coast Region
From the June 2025 Quarterly Activity Report
As a mariner, the arrival of spring marked the beginning of painting season onboard vessels. I remember it well from my own time as a mariner. Painting was a shared task; familiar, purposeful, and often a catalyst for crew unity. There was something about painting that felt like the purest form of labor. Effort and attention were nearly always reflected in the final result. While crew members might have differed on how to apply paint, we almost always agreed on what a job well done looked like. Most of all, I valued the camaraderie and those long hours spent together in shared purpose, side by side on deck, laughing, talking, and building trust.
Sharing our life stories was an anchor in our day-to-day life aboard. Between watches and work, we’d often pass the time with familiar tales, sometimes retold countless times over a hitch. Coming home on off-hitch brought with it a batch of new stories—ones we’d carry back onboard and share with the crew, weaving them into the rotation. Time aboard doesn’t move quite the same way as it does ashore. It’s measured differently, felt more deeply, and makes room for conversations that are richer and more thorough.
So much camaraderie is forged in the time spent working together. It’s not something that can be rushed or manufactured. As an SCI Chaplain visiting from the outside, I recognize it takes timeto be welcomed into that rhythm. Still, mariners are, more often than not, open to conversation and curious about the world beyond the vessel. I remember how, during my own hitches, a visitor always brought something new, like a story, a fresh face, a reminder of the world beyond the water.
Spring weather and painting season always make it easier for me to engage with mariners as they’re out on deck, brushes in hand, working together. When I meet with them now, I remember and try to honor that rhythm, letting it shape how I engage with them. Granted, I sometimes find myself moving too fast, chasing tasks, and crossing off to-dos. But, never far from my mind is the memory and meaning of those slower, more intentional conversations that still happen out on the deck.
I try to let the mariners I meet know that I’ve stood where they stand, that I’ve held the brush and applied paint. I remember what a job well done feels like, and I know the weight of a long hitch. I have stories and experiences for them, along with advice and guidance. And they, too, can share their stories with me. Like a member of their crew, I will listen, I will show up, and I will be there when they need support.