My 15-year-old son Lewis was out fishing a few weeks ago at Lake Phalen, about a mile from our house. I got a call at about 8 pm from the St. Paul Fire Department saying they had pulled Lewis from the lake after a near-drowning. I was shocked.What was he doing in the lake? They said he was okay, but was being taken to Regions Hospital Emergency Room for observation.
When I got there, he was in really rough shape. He was covered in warming bags, had oxygen and an IV, and could barely open his eyes. He'd used every last bit of his energy to stay alive. Eventually he was able to tell the story.
He was fishing on the dock next to a guy he'd fished with before, and his line got stuck, his lure popping off about 30 feet from the dock. It was his favorite lure, so he decided to dive in after it. He said to the guy next to him: "Spot me!" and dove into the water. The lure was further out than he thought and the water was colder than he expected. He reached the lure and was going to push off from the bottom to head back to the dock when he realized the water was deeper there and he couldn't push off from the bottom. It was about a foot below his feet. So he went down to push off the bottom, and his feet became entangled in the weeds.
He grabbed a breath and went down again to push off harder, but he couldn't break free from the weeds. As he bobbed up and down, he motioned to the guy on the dock that he needed help. The guy on the dock jumped in, but also became entangled and went back to the dock. Lew started to call for help, and others began to notice trouble and called 911. There was yelling for help until a guy rode by on a bicycle, dove in, reached Lewis, and pulled him to the dock.
The rescuer, Steve, had been a lifeguard twenty years prior to this night, and he had been finishing up a 25-mile bike ride. He was about to head home, but decided to take one more spin around the lake. At the perfect moment, he was there. God was there.
By then the Fire Department arrived. Lewis was able to answer questions and give them my phone number and was lucid, but could barely move. His whole body tingled; he was having a panic attack. Who can blame him?
I met him at the hospital with my daughter,Emma, and my wife, Joy, arrived shortly after (she was at a rehearsal in Minneapolis). As time went on,Lewis became more lucid and animated, was full of "I love you's" and gratitude. We were home by about 11 pm, by which time he'd eaten and become fully coherent.As we walked together out of the hospital, Iput my arm around him and said, "Don't you leave me. Stay with me. I love you."
Psalm 34:4-7
"I prayed to the Lord, and he answered me.
He freed me from all of my fears.
Those who look to him for help will be radiant with joy;
No shadow of shame will darken their faces.
In my desperation I prayed, and the Lord listened;
He saved me from all my troubles.
For the angel of the Lord is a guard;
He surrounds and defends all who fear him."
How can a drowning boy have a perfectly willing and qualified rescuer in the very spot at the very moment he was needed? How do the shackles of weeds that bind the boy release with one tug from the man? And how do the shackles not dare grab the man who saves the boy?
Were the boy's thoughts on God? Were the rescuer's?
Or were the prayers of grandparents and parents, relatives, youth pastors and friends, and a birth mother, working across the years in the heart of God to bring at the perfect time the perfect praise to his name for his perfect deliverance?
Here we are, radiant with joy. Safe. Grateful.
