This article was first published on the 17th of April, 2016 and last updated on the 17th of April, 2016 by Patrick Carpen.
This is an experience I guess I will never forget. I was just 3 or 4 years old, yet I remember every detail. There were heavy rains in the area. The trenches started to overflow and the ground was covered with water: in some places up to one foot high.
My sister, who was one year older than I, invited me to go for a walk to the backyard. I followed her as we waded through knee-deep water to the back fence. We looked around for a while, admiring the beautiful scenery for a while, then turned around to return in our tracks. What I didn’t know was that we had crossed a small trench. There was a bridge over the trench and I had mechanically followed my sister over the bridge, without being aware of either the bridge or the trench.
My sister walked back over the bridge and this time I walked a few feet to the right. I slipped downwards. I went into the trench and under the water. I can’t remember how long I spent under the water and I don’t remember feeling any pain, but I remember seeing all colors of the rainbow.
At that point in my life I didn’t know how to swim. I had no experience in deep waters. For a few moments I struggled under the water. Whether it was a matter of seconds or minutes, I cannot say.
Whether it was my own strength or some supernatural force, I’ll never know, but I was lifted out of the watery deep, out of the trench in which I was drowning, and placed me on higher ground. Water was pouring out of my ears, mouth and nose as I sneezed. My sister stood there looking. We both walked back into the house.
Whether I am to interpret this experience as a horror story or a miracle story or both, I’m not sure; but what I’m thankful for, is that I lived to tell the tale.
Related: God threw me down.
Related: Ride on the left side of the street.