The morning mist covering Coega is grey. Cranes reach for the skies, touching clouds and under Danie's soles he feels the cold concrete of the quay. In his backpack he carries Bibles and warm beanies. Next to him the water moves playfully along the steel bow of the ship. In front of him men are waiting. It has been months since these men unlocked their own front doors.

On the first ore carrier, he climbs the stairs. He meets a man whose life fits into a bag. It is another ship. It is another contract. It involves more strangers he has to live with for some months. He finds it most tragic that life at home continues without him. 

"I am tired of starting new." His body also shows the signs where he sits on the bench in the dining area, despondent and bent forward.   

Danie listens. He takes out a Bible in the man's own language. The man pages through the Bible slowly. On the pages he reads well-known words. They do not make the longing disappear. No text shortens the months or makes the absence easier. But, Danie remains sitting next to him. He is not in a hurry. He does not provide glib answers. With the Bible he receives something of God's care in the form of someone with time. He closes the Bible and holds it close to his chest for a moment. 

On the next ship Danie sits next to a Philippine seaman. His cell phone screen tells a story of a serious crisis at home. Between him and the family lie thousands of kilometres of water and another three months. Danie does not try to fill the silence with hurried words. He remains seated and listens until the man's concerns can be conveyed in words. In such a moment a Bible in an own language, telling about the omnipotent God that is forever, makes a difference...   

Nothing on the screen changes. The house still far away. But, here is someone that cares and more than that, there is the reminder of the One that is eternal and constant. 

By the time they are ready to eat, Danie moves a chair to sit between some Indian seamen. He asks about their homes, their families. Above the drone of the ship, their voices talk warmly and full of excitement. Someone laughs. Then the beanies and Bibles are distributed from hand to hand.

"It feels like home," says one of them.

As Danie walks down the steps a little later, the ships still carry their loads. The men will still long, but today someone asked their names. Someone heard their silences. Someone put something warm in their hands.

That is how the CSO takes care of the men each day. A chair is pulled up, a Bible is opened, a name is asked for, a person is seen. Daily we realise that the simple acts carry immense meaning and value within the world of men working at sea. Please consider, prayingly, to support our work financially. We cannot continue this work without you.