I have always wanted to meet people who have served a mission in El Salvador who later in life became famous. I feel that we share something unique. Those missionaires accepted a call to serve my homeland and for that I am so grateful. Darin Southam is one of those fellows. A few days back, he wrote a post that touched me deeply and need to share his words with you.
"Forgive the length of this post but I shouldn’t be alive today.
I returned to Salt Lake Friday from a location scout in Upstate NY, where Michelle picked me up with the family and we travelled 2 hours straight away to Bear Lake, Utah for a weekend trip with her family. It was a wonderful trip, however, on Saturday I attempted to cross the mammoth lake with a blow up kayak. I just felt an impromptu urging to challenge myself (a frequent thing, for me). I said to Michelle, “Well, I’m going to row across the lake now. Be back in a bit,” to which, Michelle replied, “Where’s your life vest?” Over-confidently, I turned, “Why do I need a life vest?” and continued on with a smirk. From the shore, the lake appears much smaller than it is. A very deceiving optical illusion. But, I’ve since learned, it’s about 8 miles across!
I rowed myself on the flimsy kayak about 3/4ths of the way, believe it or not. Blistered hands in an awkward kayak that just wasn’t made for such a voyage, as much as it pained me to do so, I turned back. But determined, I turned around again and kept going a little further. At length, I realized I was just too unprepared for the unexpected length of the journey. I’d put sunblock on in the morning but it wasn’t fresh and I didn’t want to make everyone late for dinner—or fry myself in the sun. So I gave in and began the long journey back home. Deep down, however, I felt defeated; giving up is completely foreign to my nature. Eventually, I made it back, having been on the water for over 2 hours! My shoulders were spent from rowing and my hands now with open blisters.
The following day, having no plans at attempting another crossing, I put my trunks on to meet Michelle and the kids on the water. On my way out, Michelle’s mom joked, “Going for another try?” To which, I shook my head, “No way.” And I meant it. I literally almost fell asleep on the couch not 15 minutes earlier from all my rowing the day before. But my brother-in-law egged me on, “Da-rin, Da-rin, Da-rin,” as I exited toward the lake. The only kayak left was the blow up so I rowed it out to meet the others. Now, somewhere between the walk to the water and the rowing to meet Michelle and the kids I determined in my mind to try again for the other side. I was convinced, if only I had a better kayak, I could make it across. So I switched my daughter for our blue Kayak, which she reluctantly gave me. But Michelle and I mistakenly thought I was too heavy for it so I switched Michelle for hers. Had I known what would happen, I would never have given up the blue kayak. As it were, I was actually 30 pounds UNDER its weight limit and, unbeknownst to me, disaster would descend on the other kayak.
I powered off. At first, I was flying. It was so much lighter on the water. I rowed hard, alternating from sitting to kneeling to standing. I passed an idling boat confidently on my way to the other side. I was at least 4-5 miles out when I went to alternate to the standing position and realized something might be wrong. The board/kayak was suddenly very unstable and I had to immediately sit back down. But, assured it was just me getting tired and wobbly, I pressed on. Admittedly, the board seemed to feel heavier to row at this point. I looked at the back and couldn’t quite determine if it seemed lower in the water. Again, it was probably just me getting tired, I thought. So, onward I went and I reached at least as far as I had gone the previous day (possibly further) when, all at once, the kayak slowly tipped back, as if someone lifted it by tip and, suddenly, I was dumped into the water. I mounted the board again only to be dumped just like before. I tried laying on it and paddling with my hands but it was futile. Now likely 5-6 miles into the lake with a bottom so deep it’s never fully been measured, muscles already fatigued from rowing so far, there I was--treading water. Alone in the vast sea-like Bear Lake. I was in trouble.
Not trusting how much further the other side really was and noting the absence of boats in that direction, I turned back and began the daunting swim for home. It didn’t take long before panic set in. I immediately cried out unto the Lord, “God, save me! Save me, God! Save me, God.” I could feel how tired I was and how slow I was going. And, with the dead weight of the waterlogged kayak, my hope of reaching the other side alive was quickly dwindling. After about 20 minutes of swimming, I contemplated ditching the kayak and just swimming back without it but I tested it first, pushing it forward and swimming toward it. It was then that I realized just how dire my situation was—feeling the dead weight of my 205lb muscle-heavy body in the open water, I realized, as hard as it was to push that board, I was dead without it. It had just enough buoyancy to give me something to hold onto—but for how long I did not know. Would it sink in a mile? In two? All I knew is, ditching it would be fatal in the vast 5-mile swim I had left. Having read forums about swimmers preparing for Iran Man, they train for months with 4-5K distance swims that usually last an hour several times a week. They do it in a pool usually, many times assisted, to avoid accidental death. Though I’m in shape, I’m 42 and nowhere near the cardiovascular strength needed to do something like this cold turkey.
Notwithstanding, I had no choice.
I pressed on, working into a muscle-numbing rhythm. Then, a boat motored by, about 200 yards away. I lifted my ore high with all my strength. It felt like 50 pounds waving it from the base with no leverage, all while keeping myself afloat and trying to remain calm. Alas, the boat passed me by, leaving me alone again. I continued on, feeling myself getting more and more tired. Becoming more and more desperate. Seeing the tiny homes on the other side, I finally said to myself, “I’m going to die.” Then, another boat zipped by, a little further than the last. I tried once more to wave my ore but they did not see me. In my despair, with no other boats in sight, I thought of all the foolish decisions that led me to my imminent death. Why didn’t I listen to my wife and wear a life vest?! Why did I have to attempt crossing again--and with such careless thought? As ashamed as I was at my choices, I couldn’t change any of it now.
What was once a crystal blue paradisiacal lake only minutes earlier was now a monstrous abyss threatening to swallow me whole with every waning stroke. I was powerless--suffering alone the consequences of my rash actions and, suddenly, my life flashed before me. Not metaphorically. Literally. I knew this was the end. I thought of my wife and children. How could I do this to them? How could I make Michelle a widow at 38? How could I leave my children fatherless? Little Gabe wouldn’t understand. And the older children would be confused and haunted for the rest of their lives, all without saying goodbye and likely never recovering my body from the depths of the lake. The thought of their suffering willed me to keep going. To endure. “Don’t die. Don’t die! Keep going!”
I also thought of my unfinished film, 10 years in the making, which I was at last on the eve of producing in August. It would be left by the wayside in the wake of broken hearts and shattered memories. But I pled with God, nonetheless. I pled with Him with all my energy to save me. I begged Him in the terror of my soul drowning in the great deep, “Oh God, save me! Save me, God!” I could feel myself sinking lower and lower; every sidestroke filling my outer ear with water. My lungs in pain and my heart feeling about to burst. Then, I lifted my arm to the square and commanded in the name of Christ that help would come. And somewhere in my heart and mind, I clung to my faith of 42 years--I clung to my God!! I KNEW He could save me. I knew, even though I’d been foolish and given Him no reason to bail me out, I knew He could do it. But would He?
Swimming a little further, having pushed the nearly sunken kayak for over 30 minutes now, I lifted my head one last time and beheld a boat about 150 yards out. Miraculously, it had stopped and was idling. I almost dared not hope, but I gathered all my strength one more time for a chance at saving my life. I yelled as loudly as I could, waving my arms, “HELP! HELP!” They could not hear me. Out of breath, I tried whistling through my teeth and eventually managed a pretty piercing whistle. I knew, if this boat did not see me, I knew there was no way I could make it back. But suddenly, the boat fired up it’s engine and began a b-line straight for me. I could hardly believe it, “Oh, thank God! Thank God! Thank you, God!” But I dared not stop waving my hands as the previous two boats came so close and still passed me by. I watched in fear for the boat to make a hard turn but, thank God Almighty, it continued for me and about 50 yards out, they honked their horn. I knew I was saved.
They lifted my trembling body safely into the boat and I collapsed on the deck, lying in shock and disbelief. Then I broke down in tears. I hugged the woman who helped me to a seat. I tried to point home but my arm was so weak I had to sustain it with my other arm. I told them over and over, “You saved my life. You saved my life.” I thanked them. Told them God sent them to save me. The boat full of teenagers and parents, all observing me in total silence. Surely, as shocked as I was to see a strong grown man weeping in gratitude for life.
Now, the aftermath. How can we go on, knowing I was supposed to die but God snatched me from the grasp of hell? We know we return to our Heavenly home when our earthly work is finished. But can our lives be cut short and our work left unfinished by our own foolish choices? Yes. I knew this and I knew if God saved me it would have to be a total bailout. How can we go on, never forgetting that so many others have fallen without a bailout? Their families left to mourn out their days without them. Why was I saved when so many others were not? I don’t know. But this much I do know: God snatched me from the jaws of death on Sunday. I knew it and I knew He knew it. And I will forever sing praises to His name.
Parenthetically, Michelle was saddened that she had felt no warning to come save me. But an all-knowing God knew, Satan’s bounds were set--the boat had been summoned, my kayak staying afloat just long enough, and I would be dining safely ashore in the arms of my family before sunset. He also knew, when He taught me at 13 to whistle through my teeth, that this skill would eventually save my life. Because He knew all this, He allowed me to feel the pangs of slowly watching my life come to an end. He allowed me to feel my nothingness. I’ll never forget it. And neither will my family.
Hug your loved ones today, tomorrow, and forever. Be grateful for life. Do the things that matter most. Forsake the things that don’t.
No one is perfect. Me least of all. But I can only hope this experience will make me a better man. I hope it might also benefit all who read it. God bless."
Darin does not know me or cares to know me but I am in debt for his example and wisdom. Thank for being who you are!
Con amor,
Vero
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