Chapter One: His Hand Held Back the Tide

"He gathereth the waters of the sea together as an heap: He layeth up the depth in storehouses.  Let all the earth fear the Lord: let all the inhabitants of the world stand in awe of Him." -Psalm 33:7&8

     I was born of goodly parents.  That phrase has stuck with me since I first read it.  I have always believed it was the perfect beginning of a life story.  Because where does any story begin, if not with one's parents?   My story happens to begin with my parents and, thankfully for me, they were (and are) indeed goodly parents.   
    
     There are moments in your life that become imprinted on your memory, on the very essence of your being.  They influence and forever change who you will become.  My story, my heritage, is fully stocked with such moments and I feel utterly and desperately inept to put them into words with any justice to their creator.  I have taken a breath, said a prayer and hope against hope that somehow when I type the final words, a grace beyond my own capabilities will have stepped in and covered my inadequacies. 
    
     When I was about three and a half years old my parents made a decision which, at the time, seemed to be a foolhardy venture into self destruction with their entire family in tow.  They both felt they had been called to travel to Honduras to see for themselves what the impoverished families in that country might need for daily survival.  They wanted to serve, and they felt led to find service there.  Let me set the scene more completely for you.  My parents who did not speak Spanish (My mother had taken a couple classes, but spoke very little and nothing fluent.) decided to load myself and my three brothers into our Volkswagon van and drive from Rosemount, Minnesota to the Central American country of Honduras where we knew absolutely no one.  At that time the country of Nicaragua, just to the south of Honduras, was in full blown war and the refugees were being sent to camps in Honduras.  There was also during that time period civil unrest in both Southern Mexico and Guatemala.  Several missionary families had already been kidnapped by various guerrilla forces in each country and held for ransom.  Both of these countries would have to be driven through to get to the final destination.   
   
      My family members begged my parents not to go, and if they felt they must go please do not be foolish enough to take the children.  Homes were offered for us to stay in while my parents went on their adventure together, but the offer was denied.  My parents decided if we were to go we would go as a family.  They would not separate us for if the Lord saw fit to protect them, surely He would protect us together as well.  The appointed day for travel came and we set out on the road.  Little could I have known at the age of three and a half that the direction of my life would be forever changed in that single decision.  That very first leap of faith by my parents made all of the difference in the woman I am today.
    
     I should add that my Mother always said a very specific prayer whenever we would begin a trip.  She would ask God to bless us with faith and teach us to trust in Him.  It is a prayer I remember well and one I hope to pray over my own family someday.  But I will warn you, it is a prayer that is not for the faint of heart.  We quickly learned when Mom prayed for faith we were most certain to be faced with a dilemma that could not be solved without great prayer and reliance on the Lord.  As we got older my brothers and I felt a certain amount of dread when we heard the yearly prayer from Mom's lips. I remember begging her, "Please stop praying that!  We have enough faith now, I just want a nice peaceful trip this time." Mother of course, being a loving Mother, did not listen to my pleas but reminded me we would never reach a point in our lives when we would have enough faith because if faith is not growing it is most assuredly dying.
     
     I firmly believe it was because of my Mother's prayers that we never traveled to Honduras without having some mishap occur.  What to me at the time was anything from an inconvenience to a terrifying encounter, became in my heart the foundation of my faith in God.  Not as a being who watches our lives from a throne on high, but as a true Heavenly Father who is actively an omnipresent being in our lives.  Ever with us and in us and working through us as we struggle to understand our place in this world and the world to come.  This is the story of the first building block to that foundation in my life.
    
     It was, I believe, on our second trip to Honduras.  My brother Ronnie was about thirteen, Tommy six and John Michael just Three.  As we traveled toward Chorpus Christi, Texas my Father decided it would be neat to drive us down onto the beach several miles north of town.  It being winter time there was no one on the beach and he knew when the tide was out the sand would be packed down hard enough to drive on. 
    
     I remember the beach being grey and cold with a pretty stout wind blowing the grasses on the sand dunes that we passed driving toward the water.  We were all squealing at Dad not to drive us into the water while he laughed and said we could just drive our way to Honduras through the ocean.  I could barely make out the outline of the city as I looked down the beach into the cloudy horizon.  Everything was giggles and happiness until Dad realized he had miscalculated the tide.  All at once he realized the tide, which he had thought would still be out, was coming in and coming in fast.  Before he could put the van in reverse the tide had pulled our solid ground out from under us and we were stuck fast and hard.  Dad made one attempt to back up, but quickly realized that would only be certain disaster as the water rushed in even more pulling us under even more deeply.
    
     It was decided Mom and Ronnie would head down the beach toward town to get help while Dad waited with the rest of us at the van.  Looking back I cannot imagine what it must have been like for Dad to send off his wife and son into an unknown city while he waited, helpless to do anything to get us out.  How he must have wondered, what if something happened to them?  How long might it take before he needed to worry and what could he do about it?  What on earth would he do to occupy three children under six while we were all trapped inside a van being pulled into the sand?  None of those questions occupied my four year old mind.  At the time it did not dawn on me that my Father had anything to worry about.  All I found myself wondering was, why was Dad pacing back and forth outside the van and what if we are stuck here forever?  Could you get sucked into the ocean?
    
     I don't know who's idea it was because I have no memory of discussing it with my brothers, but somehow we decided what we needed to do was pray.  The three of us crawled into the back of our van and knelt down bowing our heads as far as we could.  Out loud and with as much fervor as I have ever prayed we asked the same thing over and over. "Dear God, please keep the water away, please keep us safe.  In Jesus' name amen."  For the entire time my Mother and Ronnie were gone we prayed non stop.  It must have been at least an hour's time, maybe more but we did not give pause until we heard the sound of an engine coming toward us. 
    
     When we finally looked up we saw my Mother and Ronnie coming down the beach in a tow truck.  The driver was able to pull us from our precarious position and we continued on our way, lesson learned.  Now here comes the amazing part.  It was years later that I heard my Father's account of that day.  It is through his account that I learned how swiftly and miraculously God answered the prayer of his three children that day.
    
     While I was watching my Father pace back and forth on the beach totally unaware of his concerns and fears, he was doing his own praying.  He watched the sand pull away from the front tires of the van until they were sunken in more than half way.  Quickly losing hope of getting the van out in time he was pacing and asking God what he could do when, to his amazement, he saw the water was not coming up to the tires anymore.  Unable to believe what he was seeing he walked around the van and saw that everywhere on the beach the tide was rushing in up past the tires of the van, but in the space right around the van no water was coming in.  For the entire time that he waited for my Mother to return he watched the tide as it stayed back from the van, never once coming near.
   
      After my Mom returned with the tow truck and everything was hooked up he watched as the driver pulled the van from it's location.  As soon as the van was pulled out the water rushed back into the space taking back it's rightful place on the beach. 
   
      I know of no science that explains how the oceans tides will pick and chose where to come in and where to hold back.  I do know of a God who made the ocean tides, who for His own good will and pleasure can and will hold back the very waters of the sea as His children plead for His grace and protection.  I know it because I was there when His very hand held back the tide.