It’s All About The Day My Life Was Saved

At five-years-old, I had a near-death experience. It was the day Jesus saved my life. That may sound extreme or weird to some, but I remember it as vividly as if it happened yesterday.

I drowned in a swimming pool, and I remember the feeling of struggling until I wasn’t anymore. Then there was only the sense of complete love and peace. I never wanted to leave.

In my book Daring to Believe, I share with my readers my personal experience of meeting Jesus face-to-face and how He told me it wasn’t my time. He has always been with me and continues to show up just when I need a miracle.

Excerpt from Daring to Believe—Chapter Thirty-Two

The words caught in the back of my mind, as I remembered the day Jesus saved my life

I was five years old, and my mother had taken my brother and me to visit a friend of hers. An unusually hot day had prompted Mom’s friend to invite us to swim at her neighborhood pool. My eyes went wide staring at the pool. Jamie, my brother, ran off with his buddy, leaving me to play alone.

Not knowing how to swim, I stood on the first step leading into the water, white-knuckling the railing beside me. I bit my lower lip as my eyes darted toward my mother, making sure she was still nearby.

At the opposite end of the pool, the older kids played a game of keep-away. Oh, how I wished I was braveenough to join them, but I stayed on the stairs watching from a distance.

Brittany, the daughter of my mother’s friend, must have suspected what I was thinking because she drifted towards me with her hands on the bottom of the pool and her face just barely above the water. She looked beautiful and confident.

“Want to go over there?” she asked, nodding in the direction of the deep end. “I can take you if you want.”

I spun around and yelled, “Mom, can I go with Brittany into the deep end? She said she would take me. Please, Mom! Please, can I go?”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea, Amy. Just stay on the stairs.” “But Mom!” I pleaded again.

“It’s okay, Mrs. Gray. I know how to swim, and I won’t take her far—just to the rope and back,” Brittany responded.

Mom said, “Well, I guess it’s okay but just to the rope and back. And Brittany, Amy doesn’t know how to swim. So, be careful, please?”

Electricity shot off in all directions like fireworks within my tiny body. Mom said yes!

“I understand. I got her,” Brittany replied and then swooped me up in her arms. As we moved closer to the rope which separated the babies from the grown kids, my heart raced like a running away train.

“Do you want to go under the rope? I can show you how to hold your breath for a few seconds.”

My mind froze as I stared straight at her. Go under? Hold my breath?

“Come on,” she giggled. “It’s easy. Pinch your nose like this and take in a deep breath at the same time. You can also keep your eyes closed if you like.”

I did as she said and pinched my nose with my thumb and index finger and then together, we took in a deepbreath. I closed my eyes and fixed my legs tight around her small waist. Instantly, we were underwater.

A few seconds later we resurfaced, and Jennifer exclaimed. “Wasn’t it fun?”

I nodded with a shaky smile, wiping the water from my eyes with the back of my hands.

“We did it!” I shouted, when suddenly water drenched my

face again. A big blue ball landed with a loud thud right in front of us.

“Hey, throw it back,” an older boy shouted. Brittany handed me the ball, and I chucked it in his direction. Excitement spilled out of me as if I’d gotten a large present on Christmas morning—I was part of the group.

We watched the older kids play awhile; then, Brittany’s mom called her name and she dropped me.

I sank like a missile, and water rushed into my lungs. I tried grasping for Brittany—for anything which could help me. But my struggling went unnoticed. She was gone.

Wild with fear, I flailed my arms and legs frantically. My screams vibrated in my ears as darkness overtook me. I couldn’t think of the word, but I knew I was drowning.

I stopped struggling. A golden white light resembling a giant hand—created a bubble around me. I could breathe. A voice whispered, “You’re okay, Amy. I’ve got you.”

As an adult looking back, I haven’t the words to describe the unconditional love I felt in the bubble. Even the most exquisite words fall short. I know I was in the presence of the Divine Source.

I wanted to stay in the moment forever. Jesus understood and responded, “No, Amy, it’s not your time. You have more to do but remember I AM always with you. I will never leave you. Now raise up your arm.”

I didn’t want to, but I raised my arm, and within moments someone pulled me out of the water.

Years later, I asked my mother how she found me. “I saw your arm sticking out of the water.”

I could not have stood there by myself in the water with my arm raised because I couldn’t touch the bottom. And I didn’t know how to swim, much less tread water. Jesus saved me!

Did this experience transform me into the perfect angel? No, that wasn’t how life would play out. It took me yearsto remember my moment with Jesus and what He told me. But He never left me—no matter how hard I fought to forget Him or God.

Arousing me from my thoughts came Chuck’s voice as if an echo, “Are you ready to go home?”

Spots formed in front of my eyes as I blinked to open them. Above me, hawks circled lazily in the sky, an affirmation from the spirit world. Feeling the satisfying gleam of joy, I replied, “Yes. I’m ready.”