Hello from the Outer Banks of North Carolina! I am on our annual family vacation, where we meet up with my cousins and aunt and all their kids. We love this area of the country. It’s peaceful here, without the overpopulation of tourists that other beaches around the Southeast tend to experience. The sand is soft, the ocean is sapphire blue, and the sun is beautifully warm.
I’ve been more of a Mom this week than a Photographer, which is nice. I am off work, after all! But since my work is also my hobby, I certainly have taken a little time here and there for some of my art. Here are just a few favorites from the week.
I’d also like to take a second to share a very frightening yet very profound experience from this week. I will copy and paste this from what I wrote in my journal on Tuesday afternoon, a few hours after our scare. My love and prayers to all of you … hug your children and your family tight today. Every day is a blessing.
It happens so fast…
We had such a scare this morning. I’m still processing the emotions of it all, still crying, hugging my children, and above all, thanking God.
We went out to the beach early this morning, before the heat of the day kicked in. It was about 7:30 a.m. and there were very few people out at that hour. We spent some fun time flying kites together, working on sand castles, and playing in the surf. After about an hour, Erica was begging to go inside, so Chris took her back to the house. Stephen and I had been playing in the waves, and Matthew wanted to join us.
The waves last night were really big and strong. We laughed as they knocked us over time and again. We rode the crests in to the beach and swam back out to do it over and over. This morning, they seemed much more calm. The ocean was quiet and smooth. As the boys and I walked back to the shoreline, I asked our friend Gail to come along, and she agreed. Even though they’d barely needed them all week, something told me to put the boys’ life vests on them. We waded out a short distance and waited for the waves to catch our ride. Gail and I started to feel the pull of the undertow, and were surprised at its strength. I think that was when we both started thinking we should head closer to shore, and planned to just ride the next wave in.
But then the pull got stronger and stronger. Gail was with Matthew, and I with Stephen, and we both laughed nervously. I tried to swim a little, while still holding Stephen’s hand, and I couldn’t make any progress.
I looked for Gail, and she and Matthew were now farther out, much farther away from us. Then I looked back at shore and was shocked to see how far away it was, probably a hundred yards or more. Before we knew it, we had gotten caught in a riptide, and we were being pulled even faster out to sea.
At that point, I knew we were now in a very, very bad situation. Stephen was holding my hand. Thank God he and Matthew had their life vests on, keeping them afloat. I could barely touch the sandy sea floor, and when I put my feet down I could feel the pull of the water against me. So I kicked as much as I could, and tried to stay on top of the water.
In that split second, I looked again at Matthew and Gail, and I realized that I had to trust that she was with him, that she would do what she could to take care of him. As much as I love and trust Gail, it made my heart hurt to realize, in this horrible moment, I had to make the only choice I could between my children. I could only worry about Stephen. Matthew was beyond my reach. I would only get us into more trouble if I tried to reach him and Gail. I managed to keep my head above water, and Stephen’s life vest kept him afloat, but I couldn’t swim. The current was too strong. Swimming with one arm, holding Stephen with the other, and I couldn’t make any progress. The harder I swam, the farther we seemed to get.
For a moment I could touch ground. The water was at my chin, and I waived my arms frantically as high as I could. I whispered, “Please God, send someone to help us.” I screamed as loud as I could. I think I screamed at least three or four times. Stephen started crying and yelling “help us!” He kept kicking as I instructed, and he was so brave.
I could see my family on the beach, talking, reading their books. I knew they couldn’t hear my screams over the waves. My dad, who seemed only an inch tall from this distance, was picking up my camera. I thought, Thank you God. He’ll look through the lens to take a photo of us and he’ll realize we are in trouble. And he did. I saw him drop my camera and start running, as our friend Monty pulled off his shirt and started running too. I looked around again, and I couldn’t see Matthew and Gail anymore. “Please God, let them be okay. Please keep my child safe.”
Then I saw two young men diving into the water, closer to us as we’d been pulled so far down the shore. They were strong swimmers, and they approached quickly. Now about thirty feet away, one yelled, “Do you need help?” I choked out, “Yes! Yes, please, we need help!” I pushed Stephen toward one of them and said, “Take him. I can take care of me. Someone save my son.” The man took Stephen, wrapping his arm around Stephen’s waist, and turning to swim to shore.
As he turned, I saw the tattoos on his back and arms. In the middle of his back, about 8 inches high, was an ornate cross. Time stood still for a split second, as I stared at that cross on his back, the symbol of my Lord quite literally carrying my son to safety, its appearance in the midst of our crisis like God’s whisper telling me, “I’m here. I’m with you.”
Even the young man had trouble swimming in the current. Monty had reached us at this point, and he helped with Stephen as we all tried to overcome the tide. The man’s friend helped me as well, as I was so tired now and having trouble swimming. He pulled me along by the hand as he swam.
Finally, we reached the shallows, and I could get a firm grip on the sand and stand. I saw Gail then, now on the beach and panting, and I felt a sense of relief that she was okay. I prayed it meant Matthew was, too. The young man with the cross was still carrying Stephen, pulling him up onto the beach. The lifeguard had just pulled up on her four-wheeler. He put Stephen down on the sand out of the waves, and I saw Matthew with my dad several feet away … safe.
I thanked the man’s friend, and Monty. Matthew and Stephen ran over to our beach chairs, where Aunt Susie helped them out of their life vests and wrapped them in towels.
I followed the man who’d saved Stephen, who was walking back to his family … he had a pretty wife and two young children. I still stared at the cross on his skin. When he turned to look at me, he also wore a silver cross on a chain around his neck. I reached out and shook his hand, and said, “Thank you. God bless you.” He simply smiled and said, “Anytime.”
One thing I learned after this experience, which I’d never heard before. If you are ever caught in a riptide, do not try to swim straight back to shore against the current. You will, like us, only be pulled farther out. The current will exhaust you. That is how so many people drown in a rip tide. Instead, swim parallel to the shore until you are out of the current. Then you can swim back to shore.
