Rescued!

The wind blew coldly across the large Canadian lake, skimming the top of the water and rippling it in the process. My sister, mom, auntie, cousin and gramie huddled under a heavy blanket in the back of the boat, ready for the hour long journey it would take to get back to the campers and trucks we had left at the docks two weeks earlier. Papa started up the boat and the roar drowned out all voices. As he shifted into gear and accumulated speed the back of the boat sunk lower into the water. The canvas covered our heads but the plastic windows didn't offer much of a view, nor did it offer much blocking of noise. After a while we adjusted to the drone of the motor.

After we docked the men jumped out of the boat and began unloading baggage and food. The women and kids were left in the boat. They probably figured it was safer for us to be in the boat then running wild on the docks. Besides, the trucks would need warming up and there would be bustling around until then. Not a good place for little people to be underfoot. After a few minutes Kelly and I needed to use the restroom. Gramie said she would take us up to the little restaurant/cafe on top of a muddy hill. So the three of us, bundled in our warm woolen coats hiked the hill together, listening to one of Gramie's stories about a cat and a prince.

On the way back down to the boat we carefully walked the rough road, hopping over puddles and trying not to slide in the mud. As we walked onto the dock I decided to show off. I called out,

"Hey Gramie, I can walk backwards with my eyes closed!"

"That's great honey," she said.

She and Kelly turned onto the next dock leading to the boat. I kept walking backwards.
My right foot stepped back then my left then my right again, but there was no more wood to step back on. Before I knew what was happening I was falling into the icy water. The water swallowed me quickly.I came back up gasping for air, the shocking cold had knocked the air out of me. My wool coat soaked up the water fast and became too heavy for me. It pulled me back under the surface. I opened my eyes and could see only a muddy haze and what looked like ground going up to the shore. But I didn't know how to swim yet. I struggled to come up again.

When my head broke the surface I heard yelling across the water. A man's voice hollered out, "Go get her, Son! Go get that little girl!" No one had seen me fall except one man standing on the shore. He was there with his two sons, fishing.

I flailed about trying to save myself or at least keep breathing. Heavy footsteps pounded the wood as two teenage boys ran to me. They couldn't reach me, I was too far from the dock. I could hear them yelling to one another. One of the boys jumped in immediately and grabbed me as I started sinking again. Pulling me to him he brought me back to the dock as the other boy reached for my hand. One lifted, the other pulled up and before I knew it I was out of the water, soaking wet and scared to death.

It's funny how memories can bring a slew of emotions to go with it. I cried through writing some of this story. Partly because I remember feeling panicked because I couldn't catch my breath and I knew I couldn't save myself. I didn't know how to swim.

The other reason I cried was from the memory of some one's voice calling for help for me, someone had seen me and was trying to get help.

That man standing on the shore knew his son could reach me faster than he could, so he sent him to get me. That boy knew that the only way to save me was to jump into that cold water with me.

And isn't that what Jesus did? Didn't His Father send Jesus because He was the only one who could do it? Didn't He jump in with us because He knew we would drown without Him there in water? No one else could rescue us except for Him and He willingly threw Himself in with us in order to do it.

I don't know the boys or the man who saved me that frigid, winter day. We never heard from them again, but that fifteen-year-old memory stays with me like it was yesterday.
Why?
Because...I remember feeling scared and desperate for someone to come save me.
Because...in the face of that desperate fear it paints an amazing picture of what being rescued is all about.

Rescue: to free or deliver from any confinement, violence, danger, or evil.