Mykonos is a Greek island sitting beautifully in the Aegean Sea and clustered among a span of other islands. It was on our itinerary – an all-day visit and well worth the time.

The water is crystal clear near the beach and spreads into a dramatic blue/green shade further into the depths. On one visual slope, a row of 16th century windmills marks the island’s main landmark. Its nickname is The Island of the Winds.

That was definitely the case on the day of our visit. The winds and the episode when my phone was missing made the island a never-forget experience.

Shopping through the winding stone paths among every item ever offered to a tourist took up the majority of our morning. We selected a lunch spot on a terrace restaurant that offered an occasional free wave splash from the beach edge. The sun was warm and shining through a cloudless sky until the phone cloud appeared. I reached for my phone in its usual pocket, and it wasn’t there!

Scrambling through the purse was next, followed by an “I think I may throw up” feeling. Othel left to go back through the labyrinth of streets to our last purchase. While all the customers watched the town pelican wander through the restaurant, I began fumbling through the small bags of souvenirs. There it was – inadvertently dropped into a bag instead of my purse. I felt like dancing with the pelican.

After that cloud passed, we wandered more streets and noticed that the winds were increasing. I watched the waves between us and our ship which I believed was anchored too far off shore. The fear of deep, rough water tapped me on the shoulder and whispered, “Look.”

I suggested we go to our embarking point and get back to the ship. Othel agreed and so had every other passenger. The line met us long before the embarking tent. There was a problem — the winds had made the sea too rough for the tender boats to dock.

As we stood in line over a windy hour, we watched as the crew retried carrying passengers to the ship. Each time I would see the bright orange boat dip below and out of sight in the wild waves and then return with its original load of pale and frightened riders. By then, the enchantment of Mykonos had been blown away by the high winds and boisterous waves. I desperately wanted back on the giant vessel and away from the tossed sea. However, I didn’t want to board the small orange boats that bobbed like orange fishing corks.

I prayed — earnestly prayed. The waves didn’t subside, but the line began moving ahead of us and the reason suddenly appeared. A much larger rescue ship — a ferry-crossing ship — had pulled up to our dock to load the final passengers. Within the next thirty minutes we were safely stepping onto the cruise ship’s gangplank — without having to don a life jacket.

My heart rejoiced exceedingly. The One who is the Way always finds a way, even through the sea.

Letters to Camille Anding can be sent to P.O. Box 551, Brookhaven, MS, 39602, or e-mailed to camille@datalane.net.