I Should Not Be Here.

We recently went to the beach. I almost didn't come back.

My father-in-law, Papá Juan, turned 70. To celebrate his birthday he wanted to go to the beach. So, we went to a beach a couple of hours from our home... 30 of us. Josefina and our kids, her parents, her sisters and their spouses and children.

We had a brief, but fun stay that included playing in the pool, strolling on the beach, splashing in the waves, and celebrating Papá Juan's 70th.

But, things got dicey a couple of hours before our scheduled departure. Josefina and I, along with a handful of other family members, decided to make one last visit to the sand and surf... a short walk on the beach, then back in the car to head home.

That was the plan.

The waves were quite small, maybe knee high, near the beach. 1 or 2 out of 10 on an excitement scale. I decided to venture further out in search of larger, more exciting waves. I could see three fishermen standing about 50 yards from shore and approximately 25 yards to the left of where we were. The water where the fishermen were standing and casting their lines appeared to only come up to their thighs. In retrospect, this gave me a false sense of security. I gradually made my way further from shore. The waves were a little larger, but I could still feel the soft sand of the ocean floor under my feet.

Then, I bobbed over a wave and found that I could no longer touch the ocean floor. I decided to retreat back to where I could stand with my head above water. I quickly realized going back towards shore would not be an easy task... impossible actually.

In bobbing over that last wave, I had inadvertently entered some sort of vortex of death!

Due to a combination of the contours of the coast and the ocean floor at that particular spot as well as a confluence of currents, I was trapped. I attempted to swim in every direction, but found that I inexplicably faced insurmountable resistance in every direction. I could swim as much as I wished, but when I stopped to assess how much progress I had made, I would find myself in essentially the exact same location.

This was not good. 1-2 out of 10 on an excitement scale had quickly become 12+ out of 10 and terrifying. I racked by brain for any recollection of recommendations for when one finds oneself in such an unenviable predicament. What I recalled was that floating on your back could help conserve energy and attempting to swim parallel to the current could facilitate escape from the current and safe return to shore. I had already tried swimming in every direction to no avail. I flipped onto my back to gather my energy and my thoughts. Floating on my back did expend less energy. But, it did not get me any closer to shore and I could not bob in the Pacific Ocean indefinitely.

I reached the conclusion that I would not be able to escape my plight by my own strength. I needed help.

As humans, particularly adult humans, and especially adult male humans, it can be quite difficult to ask for help. However, in this life and death scenario, pride- like the mouthfuls of salt water I had ingested- would need to be swallowed. I waved my arms frantically in the direction of the nearby fishermen. One acknowledged my waving, by waving back. Friendly I suppose, but not very helpful. I added yelling to my pleas for assistance. "Ayuda! Ayuda!" A second fisherman began to move in my direction. He swam over to me and then began pushing me in the direction from where he had come. He encouraged me to stay calm, "tranquilo, tranquilo." He would tread water and then give me a shove. Upon receiving my shoves, I would swim in the direction he was pushing me. Our progress was slow... but, we were seemingly making progress. Eventually, he informed me we could stand up. Indeed we could. I made my way back to shore as quickly as possible where I was greeted by family members who had witnessed the whole ordeal.

I sat on the sand, grateful to feel the embrace of solid ground. I began to process how very close I had been to not returning to shore. An older Guatemalan woman and her younger family member approached me. They too had witnessed my near drowning. The older woman asked if she could pray for me. Being prayed for by strangers is not typically part of my beach experience. However, nearly dying is also not typically part of my beach experience. I encouraged her to please proceed. She thanked God for providing an "angel" to save me from the ocean. Amen, sister. The fisherman who rescued me later confided that he had been quite worried that he would not be able to save me or himself. I was glad he had kept that information to himself in the moment. "Tranquilo" was definitely more encouraging and reassuring than "I think we both might die!"

My fisherman friend added that he felt that God had given him the strength necessary to save us both. I have no way to prove or disprove that assertion. But, I do know that one could fairly convincingly argue that I should not be here. I came perilously close to drowning in the Pacific Ocean. Yet, I did not. I am still here.

It is far above my pay grade to know why. But, the persistence of life, the continuation of my journey, provides the counter argument to the title of this entry. There is much for which to be grateful and there is much yet to be done.

I should be here.

I -and you, dear reader- must answer the question posed by Mary Oliver in her poem, "The Summer Day."

"Tell me, what is it you plan to do

with your one wild and precious life?"

A few days after the above misadventure, I was the assigned reader of scripture at a weeknight home church gathering in our neighborhood.

The passage: PSALM 124 (of course)

If the LORD had not been on our side,

...

If the LORD had not been on our side,

...

they would have swallowed us alive,

...

the flood would have engulfed us,

the torrent would have swept over us,

the raging waters,

would have swept us away.

...

One other intersting "coincidence" occurred the week after my near drowning. I attended the annual meeting of one of the organizations that has supported our work in Guatemala over the last few years, Focus Central America. The opening keynote address delivered by their Executive Director featured prominently the mantra: "Seguimos aqui" ("we are still here").

Indeed,

"SEGUIMOS AQUI"

Photo by Riccardo Farinazzo on Unsplash