Grabbing the Life Preserver

We're still floating here at the Stress Pool. The water has been a little choppy of late, what with all the craziness of Mima and the knee replacement saga, and Moink with his concussion issues. Fortunately, DH (this really does stand for Darling Hubby these days!) has stepped up to the plate and has taken charge of the Moink issue. The poor kid has to go to concussion therapy once a week. There has been some progress in some areas, and decline in others. They've come a long way, though, in determining what to look for and how to handle it. Every week he comes home with new exercises for his brain. And, if it weren't for my BFFB, I don't know how he would get to school for all the half days.
Sometimes I feel like I'm sitting on the edge of the pool watching everyone around me swim. Some days I feel like I'm drowning in the deep end, trying to hold my breath against the pressure of the water as it rushes over my head, lungs ready to burst, until I just can't hold it any longer. That's when I reach for the life preserver I so desperately hope is there.
And it is. It's called faith, family, and friends.
I know that not everyone believes in a greater being, but I do. God has always played a big part in my life, especially the time I nearly drowned in the ocean. Many years ago, several of my friends from high school  and college decided to take a trip to Ocean City, Maryland. We'd stay a week in one of the old hotels on the beach. Sounded like fun to me, and after a lot of wheedling and convincing my parents that the ocean wouldn't swallow me whole, I was given permission not only to go, but to drive the car. What joy! I could barely contain my excitement as we planned the trip. It helped make the dreary days of winter pass quickly, and finally, the day arrived.
So, there we were, laying out on the beach by day, exploring the sights of the boardwalk by evening. And then we met the male that would change our week. Dennis. Hurricane Dennis. The storm was far enough offshore that the week wasn't completely ruined. The day it came the closest, we stood on the boardwalk and watched the waves crash against the wall below us, and then the next day it was like nothing had happened.
This is where I tell you that before this time, my only other trip to the Atlantic Ocean had been in January, in Florida, with my parents. Mima was freakish about me getting close to the water, so up to the ankles only. I knew nothing of the hidden powers of that great body of water.
So, at ten o'clock that fateful morning, the eight of us lay our towels out on sand. It was hot, but not sunny yet as the clouds from the outer fringe of the hurricane weren't quite gone. Three of us decide to take a blow-up raft  into the water. If you're at all familiar with oceans, tides, and rip currents, I'm willing to bet you can see where this is going. The raft was immediately pulled away from the shoreline. MB, with whom I'd gone to high school, was on my right.  Renee, a close friend I'd made in college, was on my left. MB let go of the raft and swam in. Lighter, the raft went out another ten feet or so. We are now much farther out than I'd ever dreamed of being, unless on a boat. Which we weren't. But, it didn't stop there. The raft kept moving farther away from the shore. Renee and I looked at each other, and without a word, we both did the same thing: let go of the raft so the other might make it safely back.
I am not a strong swimmer, and held out no hope of making it back in. When I let go, my body was sucked down into the current. I held my breath and felt the rush of water as I tumbled like a silk scarf in a washing machine.
Ocean City, like many beaches along the Atlantic, utilizes walls of rocks jutting out into the water to help prevent erosion of the beach. My eyes were closed, but I knew those rocks were nearby. If I didn't drown, I was sure to be thrown into the rocks. Either way, I'm going to die. I'm not thinking about who will drive the car back, or what my parents will think when their only child has gone on to the Great Beyond. In fact, I'm not sure what I was thinking other than a silent prayer for help.
Help came. I will never forget the feeling. As I braced myself for a meeting with the rocks, I was scooped up in what felt like large, strong arms. I opened my eyes to find myself sitting on top of the rocks, not a scratch anywhere on my body. My bathing suit had gone slightly askew, much to the delight of some man walking on the beach. Straightening my suit, I crawled along the rocks until I reached Renee, who had also made it to the same wall - quite scratched and bruised, but alive. Later, after much discussion, she and I both admitted to feeling that God, or an angel, had saved us from a sure death, as there was no logical explanation for what had happened.
So, in times where I feel like I'm drowning because there doesn't seem to be a logical answer, or there are too many questions, or I'm alone in the middle of the pool, I reach out in faith to find that life preserver. Many times it's in the form of a friend, or a family member, but most times it's in the quiet presence of God who has my back, who takes care of the things that I just can't. That's my story, and I'm sticking with it.
The Stress Pool. Gotta love it. Come back and visit again - and share your story of when you reached out for your life preserver. We've all got one, and I'd love to hear yours.