God is faithful, and he will not let you be tested beyond your strength, but with the testing he will also provide the way out so that you may be able to endure it.
1 Cor. 10:13, NRSV
It was my son's sixteenth birthday. To celebrate, my three children and I took a raft trip down the American river--a calm floating/swimming/floating adventure. It was awesome! At one point, however, things changed. We encountered some very fast rapids, and I found myself on the outside the raft. Although I was standing in water only above my knees, I couldn't get myself back in. It didn't help that there were three boys on the shore, laughing themselves silly at my less-than-graceful attempts. The current tugged the raft out of my hands, sweeping it downstream with my three cherubs aboard.
The 43-year-old me thought, I'm too young to die, and if I don't die I will be in great pain if I bang over rocks. My adventures these years tend to be tempered with an assessment of the pain potential.
I decided to make my way over to a calmer part of the river and swim down to meet my family. By now the boys watching from the shore were holding themselves up to keep from rolling on the ground laughing. I just grinned at them and hoped they were enjoying the drama.
Fighting the very strong current to get out, I walked on very tender feet over hard, mossy rocks. Partway to the little island separating the tumultuous waters from the navigable ones, I spied my son--my hero--wearing his tennis shoes, beating a path to my rescue. He walked out to me, slipped his own shoes onto my feet, and led me out to deeper water, assuring me that the rapids were deep enough to bodysurf down without pulverizing myself.
when did my children start protecting me instead of me protecting them? I wondered.
My heart both swelled with pride at my son, my protector, and cringed in dread at the realization that not only were they getting older--so was I.
I saw a poignant parallel in my experience that day. I have another Hero, a heavenly one, who also rescued me from the tumultuous currents. He bore the pain of the cross and the mockery of the onlookers. He did it all for me. And He, like my son, never said a mumbling word.
~Patricia Calahan Muniz
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