We are surrounded by heroes, the vast majority of which never find themselves in a situation requiring them to express their heroic nature. And yet, many of us—perhaps even most of us—would rise to the occasion when the moment requires it. One such hero, Edson Bourn of Jacksonville, Florida, was pushed to the limit and beyond in this intense, pulse-pounding story, which appeared in the August 2014 issue of Guideposts. It’s a powerful reminder that we are all capable of much more than we think we are, and that when we think we have exhausted our resources of courage and strength, they will be replenished if our intentions are pure and our faith intact.
THE MIRACULOUS SURGE
Walking down the beach that day, he was so wrapped up in his own problems he almost didn’t hear the girls screaming
Shrieks of joy, the sounds of happy children, reverberated across Rhode Island’s Napatree Beach. Two little girls playing in the sand. But I was barely aware of any of it. I plodded along, oblivious of the crashing waves at high tide. Late afternoon.
I ran my fingers through my wind-tangled hair, as if to clear my head. I’d come to this isolated spit of land on my sailboat, a place to escape. My wife and I had recently separated, our marriage in shambles. I worried about the toll on our boys, just six and eight.
It seemed like forever since I’d heard them laugh. But I didn’t know what to do to make things better.
The girls. I’d meant to tell them to stay away from the water. The currents could be dangerous. Now one of them was in the ocean. Beyond the surf line. I could just hear her screams over the waves. The undertow.Any second now she’d be swept away.
I ran across the hard-packed sand as fast as I could. The other girl was at the edge of the surf, maybe 20 yards away, yelling, all the while wading deeper into the water herself.
“Wait! Stop! Don’t go any farther!” I charged into the waves and was reaching for her when a wall of water overwhelmed us. I clawed to the surface and for half a second I saw her disappear under another big breaker. I dove to the spot. I’m a strong swimmer, but I could feel the current pulling me hard.
Where is she? Splashing. A gasp for air. There. I grabbed her and she clung to me, her little body shaking, trembling. I held her against me as waves roared over us, pulling us into deeper water. We were way beyond the breakers. The other girl; where is she?
I saw a waving arm. A head broke the surface. Not far away.
The arms of the girl I’d rescued were wrapped desperately around my neck. She was breathing in racking sobs. “Listen, honey. Can you hear me?”
She nodded, water cascading from her long blonde hair.
“Let go of my neck. I need you on my back. Grab my shoulders so I can swim to your friend.”
She nodded again and said something I didn’t hear.
“What?” I asked as I pried her hands loose and shifted her to my back.
“She’s my sister,” she said. For a moment I thought of my boys. How much they loved each other. How much I loved them.
“It’s okay, honey. We’re going to get her.” I looked across the water. The girl was nowhere to be seen. Dear God. Where is she? Had the undertow swept her away? From the crest of another wave I spotted a bobbing head.
“Hold on tight.” I kicked as hard as I could, my arms churning. Stroke. Stroke. It felt like I was swimming through molasses. The current pulling her farther and farther away, the waves smashing against us. I quickened my strokes, fighting for each breath.
Tiny arms pressed against my collarbone. Stroke. Stroke. Stroke. Just a few feet away. Finally! I reached out and the second little girl grabbed hold. She spewed out a geyser of seawater. Her fingers, flailing crazily, raked across my cheeks.
She was fighting me, pushing me under the water. I came up sputtering. Her sister was still holding on.
“Easy! I won’t let you go. I promise.”
She calmed down, taking deep, ragged breaths, crying quietly. I floated on my back and looked toward shore. I couldn’t see anyone. We were at least 50 yards from land. No way I could swim that far, not with two girls hanging on to me.
I was close to total exhaustion. We were drifting. The sun was setting.
“Where are your parents?” I gasped.
“I don’t know,” the older girl said, her teeth chattering. “We rowed to shore in the dinghy. We’re here with our mom, and grandfather and aunt.”
I remembered when I’d dropped anchor in the bay, seeing a solitary cabin cruiser. Surely the girls’ family would come looking for them soon. But there was no time to wait. I didn’t have a choice. I had to get these kids to safety.
“Tell me your names.”
Lillian. She was the oldest. And Sarah.
“Now listen, I’m going to flip over on my stomach, and Sarah, I want you to circle your arms around my shoulders. Lillian, you’re going to grab my hair with both hands. Don’t let go, no matter what.”
Lillian, the one who’d been in the water longer, looked at me, her eyes wide. She bit her lip and nodded.
I took one last look at the beach. Now I could make out three people, barely. Could they see me? Probably not. Here we go. I flipped over and felt the girls grab hold. Pulled my right arm through the water. Stroke. Then the left. Stroke.
I swam as hard as I could, but the weight of the girls grew heavier with every minute.
Kick harder! My legs felt like lead weights. I couldn’t lift my arms out of the water. My lungs burned. I could hear people shouting, but it sounded as if they were a million miles away. Lillian and Sarah clung to me. These poor children. I’d failed them.
I opened my mouth to take a breath, but instead swallowed water. I choked. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t swim. But in that moment I felt at peace. It’s thy will, God. In my mind I saw my wife and children. I could feel their love. Still.
From behind me I felt an incredible force, lifting and churning and hurling.
“Mommy!” A wail that pierced my consciousness. A woman screaming. The surf, like thunder. I felt something, somebody, heaving, gasping. I looked up. An elderly man was trying to drag me out of the water. Two women were splashing toward shore, each carrying a child.
Seconds later they were back. All three of them hauled me onto the beach. My face pressed against the sand. Someone was pushing, pounding on my back. I coughed. Water poured from my mouth and nose. I breathed. The breath of life.
“Thank you,” one of the women cried. “You saved my daughters.” She hugged her children. I stared out at the water, trying to comprehend what had just happened. My efforts, my struggle, had paid off. Not me alone, of course.
I thought of that giant wave. Lifting me, pushing me. A power that hadn’t come from me. When my body had failed me, when all hope was vanishing, I was given the strength I needed.
I stood and hugged the girls. Hard. My wife and boys were waiting for me. I wasn’t ready to quit on my marriage yet. There were things I could do. I just needed to make the effort. The strength would be given to me.
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If you feel more stressed than blessed . . . if you have more confusion than clarity about how to live your beliefs . . . if you long to live a richer, happier, more meaningful life . . . you will find a wealth of insight and guidance in Through God’s Eyes: Finding Peace and Purpose in a Troubled World.
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SEE EVERY MOMENT AS A GIFT
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