by Valarie DeLaVega Morse
You let people ride over our heads; we went through fire and water, but you brought us to a place of abundance. Psalm 66:12, New International Version.
When I was a little girl, we lived near a large park that had a wide stream running through it. In the Summer, we would spend nearly every afternoon there, wading in the shallows and sunbathing on the banks.
One day I was playing with some older children. They were strong swimmers and powered themselves against the current to get the rope swing onto the other side. Soon I began to feel left out because I was only allowed to stay where the water reached my waist. Being five years old, that wasn’t very deep and the whole situation just didn’t seem fair.
My parents were chatting with friends, so I ventured out a few more inches. Noticing that I was getting bored standing in the water by myself, the older kids encouraged me to swim with them to the middle of the stream. They were so kind, they even offered me a pair of water wings.
I didn’t want them to know I was just a beginner, so I said I was waiting to get used to the cold water. They smiled and struck out for the opposite shore. Slowly, I inched forward until the water lapped at my shoulders. My toes searched for traction on the slippery rocks as I gingerly moved forward. Then, suddenly I lost my footing. The rocks ended in a drop and I fell under with a sharp scream. Under the deceivingly placid water, was a swift current. And when I surfaced, I saw I was being carried downstream. As I struggled to keep my head above water, I heard the older children shouting to my father. The cold took my breath away and I was too tired to fight towards the surface.
Almost in an instant, I felt his large hand grip my forearm. And in that instant, I knew my father was going to save me. The water rushed against my face as I shot upwards. I broke the surface and was surrounded by my daddy’s strong arms.
Whenever I think of how Christ saves me, I remember that day. Because that’s exactly how it feels.