Though I was only two and a half years old, I remember it was a sunny, summer day.  My parents and two of their friends took me out in a small ski boat on a lake in Mississippi. They were planning on a carefree afternoon. No one had any idea it would turn out to be one of the most petrifying days of our lives!

They did not know that storms often sprang up quickly, worsened by the fact that the lake was in a valley surrounded by mountain-like hills. Many boats had capsized on this lake because of storms. When this storm came, we were taken by surprise. We tried to dock the boat but the wind was blowing fiercely, keeping us from shore. Then there were the waves; furious, bitter, crashing waves. The bilge pump, which normally pumps incoming water out of a boat, was broken. Inch by inch the boat filled with water. I was screaming in panic; my mother held me as she and her friend, Colleen, tried to comfort me. The men worked to get the water out of the boat, but the water came too fast and the storm was relentless. The boat sank from beneath us, throwing us all into the cold water.  Everyone had lifejackets on except for Colleen, who struggled tensely as the men put a lifejacket on her.

My mom was now squeezing me very tightly, praying, trying to protect me from the huge waves, but I was too small. Water splashed in my face as I tried to keep it out of my mouth. Everyone was holding on to one another, fearing we would drift apart! We were worried and frightened. 

My father had a plan. He said that the only way we would be rescued before dark was if he alone, tried to swim to shore. From where we were the people on the shore looked like ants and with the boat now completely under water, there was very little chance that anyone would catch sight of us.

As I remember it, even at only two, the shore seemed like miles away. As my father let go of my mother's hand, he was praying. My mother must have been terrified, but it was the only way. I remember watching Daddy begin to swim away from us. To this day I still feel anxious and tense when I think about it. He didn't get far, swimming against the storm.  Exhausted, he paused, not even halfway there. It was only his love for my mother and me, and his faith that God would help us through this, that got him as far as he did. The rest of the adults were starting to feel helpless, hopeless and powerless. 

Then came the miracle.

Someone in a cabin on a hill, just happened to be looking out at the stormy water with binoculars'. They spotted us out there and immediately called the coast guard. Still today, we don't know whom it was that called, but that person saved our lives. 

The coast guard arrived in a white pontoon that seemed as big as a ship in my young eyes. When they pulled me aboard I ran straight to my father, whom the coast guard had picked up on the way to us. My mother was close behind me. When we were all safely aboard, we left for shore.

I am thirteen now and thankful for my memories because they remind me how much God is always in control. You see, sometimes God allows us to go through storms just to teach us that He is the only way out. The person who saw us through his binoculars that evening didn't "just happen" to look out at the stormy water and see us. God was in control.

My memories of this event also remind me how precious our lives are. As my parents tell me this life-changing story, they tell me how their faith grew. They tell me about how they learned to call upon and trust Jesus and how God does answer prayer. I hope when you read this, you think not on the tragedy but on the miracle.  If you are going through a storm of some kind today, remember these hopeful verses: "…we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out his love into our hearts..." Romans 5:3-5
 

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