One of Your Girls Will Drown Today
In 2004 my wife and I were serving as Houseparents in a girl's home. We were providing a “normal” home life in connection with a school/treatment plan in the Dominican Republic. This was a ministry for troubled teens. We lived in a house on a hillside on an island in the middle of the Caribbean. We ran a household of a dozen girls ranging in age from 14 to 21. The students were in school for the day and were under my care for the evenings and weekends.
The school was very strict and highly structured. I would lead work details in the afternoons and homework was to be done in the evenings. About once per month our household of 15 people would get the opportunity to have a Saturday off-site. We might go to a museum in Santo Domingo, the capital. Occasionally, we would visit the tomb of Christopher Columbus. (Amazing how many places he is buried.) However, the favorite Saturday outing was a beach day at Sosua, on the northern coast of the island.
It was such a Saturday that I awoke to one of the strangest things I have ever heard. I heard an audible-internal voice say to me,
“One of your girls will drown today, but it's going to be alright.”
WHAT? If a student under my care dies, no, it is not OK. I immediately remembered that we were all going to the beach today. I thought, Oh, no. We can't go there. We have to do something else today. The voice continued,
“And there is nothing you can do about it.”
I thought, we will lock ourselves in the house and cancel all events. No one will get hurt. Then I remembered, “...and there is nothing you can do about it.”
While I was half panicking and half rebuking the idea, I slowly realized that the driver I had hired for the day would soon be here to transport us all for the day. The 20 passenger van was already rented. There would not be enough time to contact everyone involved in order to cancel the day's plans. After trying to dismiss my fears as ridiculous, I decided there was no real danger. I did not tell anything to anyone; not even my wife. They would think I had gone insane.
Sosua beach was beautiful; like it always was. Everyone was having a great time. I felt it was going to be a perfect day of fun and relaxation.
I cannot swim but I did like to wade out into the ocean when I was younger. I went out to four or five feet of water and played volleyball with the students. At one point, the volleyball got away from us and the waves took it out into the deep part where I was unwilling to go. I shouted, “Sorry, Wilson!” like Tom Hanks' character in Castaway. Everyone thought it was pretty funny.
I went back to shore and several of the girls followed me. Some asked me for permission to swim out a ways. I had been enjoying a peaceful day at the beach. Panic hit me for a moment. I had forgotten all about the struggle I dealt with in the early morning. I said that it doesn't sound like a good idea today. Then, I was made aware of the fact that several of the girls were phenomenal swimmers. Some had even won significant awards at competitions for their ability. I had an idea. The girls could go out swimming a ways if they went in pairs. I made sure at least one good swimmer was in each pair.
Several pair of swimmers lunged out into the water. They kept going and going and going. I could not even see 2 of them. I thought they were going for a swim; not to find another continent. Now, I am not taking my earlier fears so casually. I started to imagine the worst.
One of your girls is going to die today...and there is nothing you can do about it.
I can't swim. I can't go look for anyone. I can't tell anyone I knew this was going to happen.
A few of the girls finally came back; without problem. There was still one more pair of my students out so far I couldn't even see them. After such a long time, I could, at last, see a pair of swimmers approaching the shore. It looked like only one was swimming, however. The other girl was being towed along. Something was desperately wrong.
I was unable to swim out to help them. I met them at the shore. One of the girls appeared motionless or paralyzed. I grabbed her right arm as the other girl pulled her to shore. They collapsed on the sand. The weak girl was still alive, but powerless to move. She said, “Oh, Dave, thank you for coming out to get me.” She had suffered an asthma attack and was therefore unable to do anything.
I said, “I did not come out to get you. I can't swim. (The other girl) was holding your left arm and brought you in alone.”
She replied, “No. I know that she was holding my left arm, but you were holding my right arm. I felt two people holding me all the way in.”
I said, “It wasn't me”
God had somehow sent help that no one could see but that the girl could feel at her side all the way back to shore.
Mar. 14, 2023