I DO BELIEVE

The beach, in fact, is a very good place to have your guardian angel with you. For those of you who aren’t familiar with guardian angels,these are beings whose job it is to take especially good care of  their assigned person. Your guardian angel is the one who guides your car a little to the right so that the car on your left misses you by inches when it passes you at 40 mph over the speed limit and wanders into your lane. Your guardian angel is also the one who urges you to buckle your seat belt (even if you normally do not) just before the car in front of you stops suddenly, making your seat belt the only reason you don’t go flying through the windshield as you slam on the brakes. Anyway, as I was saying, the beach can be a very dangerous place. There are jellyfish to sting you, waves to knock you down, and riptides to pull you under, just to name a few such hazards. It was at just such a beach at about six in the evening that my brother was watching his ten-year-old son, John, dig a large hole in the sand. This seemed on the surface to be a reasonably safe activity. The hole was nowhere near the water. Instead, it was positioned at the bottom of the dunes that divide the beach from the houses that fronted it. And to make extra sure this was a safe activity, my brother sat no more than two feet away, enjoying the sand and the sun and watching the waves come in.

This was a very peaceful scene, at about six in the evening, well after almost all the sun worshippers had called it a day. So there my brother sat with his young son digging and digging and digging. As he dug further, he climbed into the hole to be able to really make it deep. Still, everything seemed safe and sane.  And then…there was just one shovel full of sand too much on the sand around the hole. Before anyone knew what was happening, he water rushed in from the bottom of the dugout. What had two seconds before been a nice, tranquil scene turned into a battle of life and death. The water had gotten hold of John and was tossing and turning him in the water, back and forth and up and down and every which way you can imagine. My brother frantically grabbed for him but could not even begin to reach him. One of the remaining bathers called 911, but even as they could hear the sirens coming toward them, no one was sure that my nephew would be rescued in time.

Then (just like in the movies) a white-haired man approached from down the beach. He appeared to just have been walking along. He sized up the situation, strode over to the hole, and with one quick motion, pulled my nephew to safety. And just like that, it was over. It turns out this man had been guarding and managing beach safety for quite a number of years. He remarked that many people were unaware of the danger of drowning in just such holes. The paramedics then duly checked out John, pronounced him fine (except for perhaps a newly developed fear of water holes), and left. My brother then turned back to where the rescuer had been standing—but he was gone. Just like that. No man walking down the beach anywhere, and no one heading up the dunes. It was just like he knew to be in the right place at the right time to perform his job and then disappear, most likely to another quick save. Now everyone might not call this miraculous, but you can be quite sure my brother and I do! And just to be on the safe side, there is no more hole digging while standing in a hole anywhere—beach or not.