Davy Doesn't Swim Very Well

"Davy doesn't swim very well," my daughter said.

I had just hung up the phone from talking to a friend. I turned around and looked at my daughter. She stood in the open door, bundled up in her winter coat from playing outside.

Davy was the same age as my daughter, three years old. He was the next door neighbor's child. She and Davy played together all the time. Davy shouldn't be swimming. It was winter in New Jersey. Something wasn't right.

"Show me where Davy is," I said.

My daughter took off running as fast as her little legs could take her. I followed. I remember feeling the cold sand underfoot through my stocking feet. We ran through our back yard gate, across a couple of the neighbor's yards, and through the open gate of a chain link fence. There ahead of me was a swimming pool half filled with water, crusted over with a thin sheet of ice. In one corner of the pool the ice was broken, and Davy was floating face down in the water. The air trapped in his winter coat held him up.

Horror filled me. I screamed at the ghastly sight; I let out a blood curdling scream of terror. People from the nearby supermarket parking lot and people from up and down the street heard it and started running in our direction.

Although I can swim well, I remember evaluating the situation. I saw that if I jumped into the water near Davy's body, I would still be able to hold onto the edge of the pool for my safety. I jumped! Once in the icy water, I knew I had to throw Davy up and out of the pool. Holding the edge of the pool for leverage, I reached out with my other arm, putting my hand squarely under Davy's belly, and I heaved with all my might. I was able to throw him out onto the pool deck. I remember hearing the clunk of his head landing on the concrete.

I don't remember how I got up out of the pool. Adrenalin must have given me strength to pull myself out. Kneeling by Davy's side, I turned him over and saw his blue face. I tipped his head back and began to give him mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. After a minute or two, I looked up to see people racing toward us from all directions. My children and the neighborhood children were the first to arrive since they had been playing close by. Next I saw Davy's father crashing through brush and leaping over a couple of fences. As he arrived, I turned over the attempt at mouth-to-mouth resuscitation to him. I herded up all the children and took them into my house. I didn't know what the outcome would be; I wanted to shield the children from the worst.

Davy began breathing again, and he want by ambulance to the hospital. He stayed there overnight and was home the next day. He was fine and had no aftereffects. Davy and my daughter played together often after that.

I learned something very important from that emotional ordeal. At that time I was a busy mother~ watching children, doing housework, being the family chauffeur, catching up on news over the phone, teaching Sunday school, etc. I immediately realized that if I had not been hanging up the phone on that fateful day, I would have not paid any attention to my daughter's remarks. I would have been absorbed in my own thoughts and conversation on the phone instead. In other words, if I hadn't been hanging up the phone at the very instant Davy needed rescuing, Davy would not have survived. And who knows? Perhaps my little daughter would have gone back by herself to try to help Davy, and she would have ended up in the pool, too. I shudder, even now, to think of such a probability.

In our complicated society, we're tempted to multi-task and not listen to the people right around us. We're proud to be busy doing many things at same time. But, I wonder. How necessary is it? Isn't most multi-tasking just vain attempts to demonstrate to ourselves or to others how indispensable we are? Or how bored we are with our present circumstances or company? In the book of Jeremiah, God says over and over to His people "Listen!" He was telling His people to listen to Him. But He also wants us to listen to one another. "Take note of this. Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to become angry." James 1:19

It'll be a couple of weeks before I write here again. I'm going out of state to visit my family. During that time I'll not be blogging. For you see, something else is more important to me. A new baby has arrived and needs to meet her grandmother. You can be assured that while I'm with my out-of-state family, I'll listen to the grandchildren tell me about their skinned knees and the spider they found on the floor. I'll listen to my daughter-in-law tell me all about her labor and delivery. I'll listen to my son talk about his work. I'll listen to their silly jokes and their hopes and dreams.

I'll choose to listen, not only because I love my family, but because God has told me to.