When I was 5 or 6 years old (there is some discussion on my age), I fell into the irrigation canal.
I have a special place in my heart for a guy named Mike. He saved my life by pulling me from the irrigation ditch just as I was about to be
swept away. I don't know, maybe I was a bit younger, but I still remember the
taste of that muddy water filling my lungs and my oldest brother hollering. Suddenly someone
grabbed my arm and pulled me out of what I was sure was going to be my watery
grave.
My brothers also contributed to the telling of this story and I want to share their versions with you too. My eldest brother said, "I remember that too, I remember running after you, never quite catching up
enough to reach you, yelling the whole way. Mike got ahead somehow, I think by
running down the side of the road while I was trying to run along the ditch
bank, or maybe his longer legs, or maybe he was just always in front of me,
maybe all of those, and he caught you at the bridge, which would have sent you
under, and maybe trapped you underneath. So he was just in time. Hadn't
thought about that in years."
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I'm telling this story again because our dear friend, Mike, died of cancer on Sunday at the age of 54. Life is so fragile and so short. I will always be grateful that he made mine last a little longer.
1 comment:
What a beautiful story and I am so happy he was there to reach in and grab you. Your brothers thoughts were great.
So sorry that you lost a dear friend and at such a young age.
Blessing for all!
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