Fight And Flight!

We have all heard about that involuntary fight or flight thing going on in our brain, well this story is about a time when it was a mixture of both for me. Fight and Flight.

Fourth of July, a yearly family reunion if you will. It didn't start out that way, it just kept happening the same time every year.

Over the years and many 4th of July's and plenty of great stories later, we were at a campground called Rock-a-way Park on Inks Lake. This was our favorite and we went there many times before and after this story's year.

It was a cool little park with campsites and docks lining the lake shore. The little park had a game room, air hockey was the big draw for me. It also had its own little store and of course public restrooms and showers.

Our campsites were settled on the shore just a little over a stone's throw from under the lake bridge, the old kind that has the arches going over it. This was very memorable because when cars went over it, they made a melodious bu-bump, bu-bump, bu-bump sound in the distance as they traveled all the way across. It was a main highway so this was pretty constant and at night it would lull you to sleep, or drive you crazy depending on your personality. This family gathering had many distinct personalities, but mostly hilarity was the theme. There was a lot of card playing, 42, swimming, laying out, skiing and eating.

Kids of all ages we had and my youngest was a toddler. I want to say 2 years old. My kids all learned how to swim early, he was on his way but not quite there yet. So he was still in his learner life jacket when in the lake. There were always adults in with them when they swam and played. There was a cement wall at the edge, so they had a good area of shallow water to play in. The lake and dock were just about 6 feet from the actual campsite and it was quite the perfect spot.

The kids swam a lot, but at the time of my story, they had been ordered out of the water for non-swim time, they were now out of their swimwear and life vests. I was on the dock which was about 6x6, tidying up a bit. Picking up the towels, soda cans and sorting flip flops. The kiddos (about 6 of them) had come to the edge of the lake right beside the dock and begged me to let them go in again. But I was adamant, not right now, later and I shoo'd them all away from the lake edge. The adults were just about 6 feet away mingled at the covered area, talking, eating, etc.

I turned back to my dock duties and what seemed like only a few minutes later, I looked up and out at the water (I believe the Lord directed me to do so) and I saw a child out in the water. Immediately I could tell it was my son. He was about 10 feet from the shore and about 6 feet out from the far corner of the dock. Not to scare too badly, he was not laying in the water, he was upright, floating, head barely above the water, looking straight at me. No life jacket.

Stop the tape. I have no idea what occurred in his little life to get out that far without going under. How did he get in the water and that far out that fast without a sound? I was right there. Only God knows.

Start the tape. He was looking straight at me. His little cheeks were puffed out holding his breath. The water was at his nose level, then at his eyes then back to his nose. But he never blinked, he just stared straight at me. I saw that and I was past freaked out inside, but literally without a thought or split second delay I took off running towards the end of the dock. I had to get my hands on that child, this was a lake not a clear pool. If he went under I wouldn't be able to see him. I ran out of my shoes. I knew somewhere in my head that I needed someone to know what was happening so as I got to the edge of the dock in a full run and jumped through the air, I yelled for help or at least I think I yelled, I may have screamed or whispered, I couldn't hear myself. I never took my eyes off his eyes.

I landed right in front of him, I knew I was going to go under feet first and as I did, I grabbed him and pushed him up as I went under. I never touched the bottom. When I came up, I had him held as high out of the water as I could. I immediately started kick swimming towards the camp. (no hands, I could not let go of my son, I kept him as high as I could.) He was still staring at me and still holding his breath, he would not let the air out of those little puffed cheeks.

My feet finally touched bottom and I was able to start walking and working on him while I was still in chest high water. I blew air into his face, I turned him over and well, for lack of a better way to say it, I hit him on the upper back with my flat hand, trying to force him to breath, turned him back over and he finally let all his air out and breathed back in. All this while I'm trying to make it back to shore with him. After he finally breathed, somebody from the camp took him from me. He was breathing and alive. At this point I am not sure what I was.

It amazes me to this day, he never took water into his lungs, he never let go of that last breath he took before he started floating out. It broke my heart to think of what he went through getting out there and begging me in his little mind to look up at him. To me it was no less than a pure miracle.

When I was out of the water, I was pushing shock. I walked over to him, now wrapped in Granny's arms, tightly in a blanket getting all warmed up and comforted, looked him over and kissed him. I don't remember everything but I think that Grandpa touched me or looked at me, assured me somehow that he's ok, he's going to be just fine. He may have said it, he may have just looked at me and I knew it. Everybody was around, but I don't remember much. I think I smiled a weak smile, but probably not and walked to my camper.

I mindlessly got some dry clothes and walked to the camp restroom. I got inside, set my clothes on the counter and then proceeded to break down by myself. I cried so hard, I thought someone was going to run in to find out what was going on in there. Did Deb come to me, I think so, maybe or Kathy? I can't remember, I obviously put on the dry clothes and returned to the campsite. My son was fine. That night I was a mixture of nervous wreck and zombie.

The next day we swam and played again. Life goes on. But I have never stopped thanking God for saving my son and my heart that day. Now he is a grown man and reading this, I love you son.

No harm done, he is an adventurer, he bungees, jumps out of airplanes, climbs and hikes and camps on the ocean beaches. He has a motorcycle and is saving for a sailboat. No harm done.

(do I have to say it Shelby, movie line alert)