The Idiot and His Lord

by Joe Hickman, editor, HaLife.com

Pshsssssssss....!

It was the first sound I heard after waking and the last sound I heard before sinking deep into the Mediterranean Sea.

I was not a fish.

So something had gone terribly, stupidly wrong.

The Mediterranean was beautiful, clean blue water you can see through, so I knew I was under it, and sinking fast.

"Lord," I prayed mentally with my mouth closed tightly, "Don't let me drown!"

God immediately took charge and reminded me how to surface.

I had taken Tony's Army air mattress and floated out to sea from the beach near Nice, France.

Tony of California, Dave of Michigan, and I had been on leave to Paris, Madrid, and Barcelona and were headed back to Germany via the French Riviera. It was late June, 1964. I would be home in Texas in two months after almost three years of Army duty in Germany.

What a wonderful trip, a wonderful place, a wonderful day.

I went to sleep.

Idiot!

I called myself that as I finally got my head above water and couldn't see anything but the beautiful Mediterranean. The air mattress had had a blow-out.

I would never have gone out on a boat without a life jacket, but for some reason I had taken a nap on an air mattress. I still can't believe it.

I had no idea which direction or how far the beach was. The sun was almost directly overhead. I had floated out at about 10:00 a.m. and, apparently I had been floating around sound asleep for almost two hours!

I could be miles from the beach.

I was not a great swimmer. The farthest I had ever swum was across the municipal pool in Sherman, Texas. Across it, not lengthwise.

And I was already out of breath just trying keep my head out of the water.

"Lord," I sputtered, "Please show me which way to swim and help me find the beach."

I started swimming to my right, I'm not sure why.

I could still see nothing but water and blue sky.

I continued to pray that I would make it back, that I would not drown in the Mediterranean, and that I never again would be so stupid.

Floating on my back was easier than swimming, so I did that again and again whenever my lungs had to rest, which was pretty often.

"Lord, why did I ever start smoking?" I asked. But there was no answer. I spent most of my floating time praying, talking to God about everything: my parents, my brother, his wife and three boys, Tony and Dave, my 1956 Opal.... Maybe they can find the keys in my junk; otherwise, they'll never get back to Germany on time....

Then I would swim for nowhere again. I am sure I didn't swim for more than three or four minutes between rest stops. It now seemed I had been swimming for hours. I lost count of the times I flipped onto my back and gasped for breath.

I began to feel very alone. As I lay there, floating in the sea, not even sure I wasn't changing directions each time I rested.  I could be swimming to Corsica, for crying out loud!

I cried out loud to my Lord, who had promised he would always be with me, "Lord, I don't know what to do, I don't know which way to go, please help me!"

Suddenly, I heard a sound, like a child squealing, the most glorious sound I had ever heard. Instantly, I flipped over and swam toward the sound. It was a little to the left of the direction I had been going. I think.

I flipped again, and couldn't hear anything over my own heavy breathing.

Then, another sound, and another.

"Thank you, God, for whoever is yelling!"

More swimming.

Then, I got glimpse of a tour bus.

Praise the Lord and another flip and more gasping.

I tried desperately to keep the bus in sight as I floated.

Another three or four swims and floats and I could see people on the beach.

I started screaming for help!

As I swam closer I could see people coming out to meet me.

"Thank you, Lord!"

I lay on the beach for what seemed to be an hour, gasping for breath and spitting up sea water.

Finally, I walked along the beach looking for my car and Tony and Dave. After a bit I saw them running toward me. Dave asked, "Where on earth have you been?"

"To Corsica," I said.

Then Tony asked, "Where is my air mattress?"

I answered, "God only knows."

And I knew He did.