I Felt the Hand of God Once

I felt the hand of God once. I don't mean in a metaphorical way. I mean I physically felt it on my body. The funny thing is, that wasn't the most important thing I came away from the experience with. What came before that point is the part that changed my life.


It started on a Thursday night. There were four of us, my girlfriend Rose, her roommate, and her roommate's boyfriend. We went to college in a suburb north of Dallas and had finished classes and work for the week. At that time we thought nothing of a six hour drive to the beach near Galveston. We were in the car driving 20 minutes after it was suggested. We drove all night and were there a little before dawn. Ignoring fatigue, we jumped straight into the ocean.


Rose didn't swim so she and I waded out just far enough for the feeling of the waves on our bodies to be exciting. It was spring which meant the water wasn't warm yet. Of course, that made holding each other close feel that much better. It was a gray, cloudy morning, not really the best day for a trip to the beach. Coupled with the fact that it wasn't even 7 AM, this meant we had the beach to ourselves. The others walked along the shoreline looking for shells while we splashed in the water.


I was the classic nice guy who happened to finish first and get the girl for once. It had been only a few months but it already felt like we'd been together forever. I picked her up and held her in the waves. The world faded and all that existed for me was her in my arms. There in the salt water with Rose so close, I felt it was the most perfect moment I'd known in my eighteen years. Then, just a moment later, that world ended.


It was one of those things a parent warns children about but which doesn't sink in. I hadn't been paying attention and we'd floated out where my feet no longer touched the sand. My momentary confusion resolved into the strangely calm thought, "Oh, this is the riptide I've heard about."


For a few minutes I tried to kick us back toward the shore without telling Rose there was a problem. It was a stupid and embarrassing mistake. It wasn't long before she recognized the fear in my face. "I can't touch." I admitted. Holding her up in my arms meant I couldn't swim strongly enough to get us back to land. I was barely able to tread water supporting us both with just my legs. We saw her roommate on the beach and Rose frantically waved as we both screamed, "Help!", but we were too far out and the crashing waves drowned our voices. She didn't know we were in trouble and just waved back happily.


After being up all night my legs tired quickly and soon I felt like I was kicking against tar. My head wasn't so high above the water now. All this time the water kept pulling us out farther. I started to realize that this was it. This was as far as I would get in life. "I can't swim anymore." The failure of having to say those words still hurts deep. Rose looked into my eyes and saw the truth of it. Without a thought she said, "Let me go. You swim back."


The thought truly had not occurred to me, to let go and swim to shore alone. When she said that my own rejection of that idea rippled through every part of me. I remember strongly the absolute certainty I had that I would never let her go. With water over my lips I remember the words in my mind, "This is my choice." And then I sank below the surface, still pushing her up with the waning strength I had left.


I had just noticed the quiet of being under the water when it happened. I felt a PUSH. Both our bodies moved in the water. I reached down with my toes and they found land to push against. I just stood up and my head was above the water again. My arms had never stopped holding Rose. I will swear we were much closer to the shore than we had been when I went under. We were close enough to start walking back onto the beach. As we came out of the water we collapsed and had to crawl, too exhausted to stand.


We lay in the sand on our backs and looked at each other. Panting heavily, we both trembled. We couldn't speak, but our eyes still confirmed what we both now knew, she was willing to let me go to save my life, and I hadn't let go, choosing to stay with her no matter what. At the time all we talked about was how somehow we were moved close enough to shore to survive. We've both told people since it was clearly miraculous. In time, though, I realized that what meant more to me was the understanding that I had made my decision. I chose to hold on to her over everything else. The clarity of that knowledge seems the bigger gift.