My senses inflamed with fear when I felt the water engulf me. It washed over me like a tidal wave and everything became chaotic and confused. My arms were flailing about reaching for something or someone, anything, but there wasn’t anything to grab hold of.
“How did I get here,” my mind screamed as I forced my legs to kick. In my panic everything seemed to move slower and slower as I gasped for air, yet the coldness kept seeping through me.
“Fight Sarah, fight!” My mind reamed my weakness, my fear, but everything seemed impossible. The more I kicked, the more I sank deeper. It was as if the water was fighting to keep me and in its hands I was powerless.
This moment was like a bad dream that I couldn’t escape. No matter how far I pushed my limits I couldn’t keep my head above the crashing waves. The numbness began to creep through to my muscles already paralyzed with fear, until finally my fight seemed endless.
I could still see the moon and the stars as I began to sink deeper. My mind kept saying, “This can’t be happening.” I thought of my husband, and my children. The tears were pouring out as quickly as the water began to fill my lungs.
In the recesses of my mind I kept hearing my heart screaming at me to fight, to not surrender. It was so loud that my ears were actually ringing. I don’t know where the strength came from but the screaming permeated through to my aching body and gave me the push to kick.
It felt like the depths of darkness were pulling me down, but I still moved my legs to the rhythm of my hearts cry. I motioned my arms in a down sweep, pushing my traps behind me and pulling me toward the soft glow. “Fight Sarah, fight!” I heard the shout cry out through the dark. “I am!” I inwardly shouted back. “I am!”
I kicked fiercely as each muscle screamed in agony. Just a few more feet and I would feel the break; my fingertips would pierce the layer of entrapment. I was weary and beyond exhausted, the shouting still cheering me forward. The fear though less prominent still lingered. It had lynched itself around my legs. It felt like I was walking in quick sand as I fought towards that last stretch of the divide.
I gasped and sputtered for air. My arms searching as the tears streamed down my face. The moon light cascaded through the darkness causing shadows and majestic illumination.
“Honey, what’s wrong?”
My body was drenched with perspiration, as if I had been swimming, but the truth was I had never left the confines of my bedroom. I turned to look at my husband who was now sitting up, concern permeating from his features.
“It was just a dream,” I cried. “I was drowning. I couldn’t swim, I couldn’t reach the top.”
My husband sighed in agony as he reached over and pulled me close. Our heads touched as we felt the racing of each of our hearts. We both looked at our desk piled with bills, over flowing with commitments we couldn’t pay. The boxes were scattered across the house. Next to the desk our belongings were piled neatly in cardboard.
A glimmer of light caught my eye. The moonbeams reflected off of a picture of my beautiful family. The photo caught just a moment when things were good and our house was prosperous.
“God can make a way baby,” were my husbands whispered words. “He giveth and he taketh away but that doesn’t mean forever.” My husband turned and looked at my tear filled eyes. “The games not over until God says it is.”
My husband was right. As painful as it was to realize that this part of our life was over, we were beginning a new season. The bad dream would end and the seedlings of God’s guidance would bud a new future. The game wasn’t over yet, it was just a second half.
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