When I think I'm going under
Jenny and I were paddling, sometimes floating, hanging on to the edges of a rubber raft in shallow water. It was an unpatrolled beach on the Gold Coast. The warm sun lulled us into a hazy, ‘half with it’ state as we talked … Suddenly Jenny interrupted. “Nettie, can you touch the bottom?” her voice curled tightly around the question mark. I poked my toes down. Further and further. All I felt was cool, deep water and no sand at all. What had happened to the beach? “We’re way out!” I exclaimed, looking in dismay at the fast-receding beach. “We’re caught in a rip!” Jenny was a good a swimmer so was less concerned than I was. I was scared. Soon we were out in the menacing-looking ocean, surrounded by turbulent waves as strong currents slapped against one another and splashed wildly. I felt helpless. Were we going to drown? “Let’s praise God,” Jenny suggested. “You know, like Paul and Silas.” So we did. Out loud against the roar of the crashin...