A Memory -- Canal Swimming

We lived in California from my 1st to the 5th grades. While we lived there, Dad mostly worked on a dairy farm and we had a lot of afternoons free. The summer days usually found us somewhere in or around the water.

We often swam in the irrigation canals. Ditches lined with concrete, the water ran clear and clean. Spaced throughout the irrigation route were gates to direct the water's flow. On the afternoon that I clearly remember, my mom, dad, brother and younger sister were playing in the water. Dad did all those water games with us: races, wrestling, dunking and splashing. After awhile, my brother -- he's 3 years older than me -- and I swam down to the water gate. This gate allowed the water to rush through to the next level and onward to the fields. Some other kids were playing there and we joined in their game of riding through the open gate in the rushing water.

We laughed and played and had a great time. Until -- one time I started through the gate and lost my breath and my bearings. I thought up was down and down was up. I floundered around coughing and spluttering and struggling to find my way to the surface or the side. Suddenly, my dad reached down and picked me up. Safe in his strong arms, I coughed a little more but soon settled down and let him carry me out. The water was too swift and rough for a little girl, but my dad could traverse the current with ease. Even when I wasn't aware of his presence, he watched over me and was immediately ready to come to my rescue.

As a child, I accepted this rescue as right and proper and my due as a daughter. Why then do I resist my Father when He reaches to rescue me from swift, turbulent waters today? Why do I feel I must do it on my own even when I am on the verge of drowning in the troubles of my life?

When I look back at the years of my childhood (all the moving, the changes, the making of new friends), I see the heavenly Father's hand preparing me for the unknowns of life. He gave me a family of love and laughter. Our home was always full of people, a house of hospitality. He introduced me to friends that were willing to reach out to the "new kid" in class, and showed me that in the midst of change, He is the one and only constant.