Читать книгу Angelic Encounters - Joe Hammond Callihan - Страница 5

Incident at John’s Pass, Florida

Moving on to 1960, I was a freshman in High School. It was summer break time, and my good friend Mike Stack and I had ridden our bicycles to John’s Pass. Taking along our fishing poles and buying bait once we arrived, we decided to go fishing on the pilings from the old bridge, which were stacked one on top of the other just off from shore. The tide was low, so we waded out to the pilings, which were around three foot square in size. Most were stacked two high, making a path to the furthest out, which were stacked three high. At that time, the top two were above the water line.

We went to the furthest out and fished for hours with little luck, our bait finally ran out, and to top it off the tide had risen. The Deep Sea Fishing boats now returning from their excursions into the Gulf of Mexico, caused the waves they created (now having water over the first two pilings) to break near the top piling, so we decided to call it a day. We took off our shoes and socks, rolled up our pant legs and held our fishing rods in one hand, with shoes and socks in the other. We then began to walk along the shallowly submerged pilings that were stacked two high, attempting to reach the shore once more.

Mike, who had started out just ahead of me, was doing fine making his way along. But then suddenly a big wave around three feet high, which came from one of the returning boats, hit me and knocked me off of my feet. As my feet went out from under me, I hit my head and back on the submerged concrete piling. It had only about a four inch covering of water, and when I hit the back of my head full force, I began seeing red, blue, yellow and green stars. I could easily discern that I was quickly loosing consciousness.

The next big wave then hit, and it rolled me over and off of the piling. I began to sink into the Gulf waters, rolling helplessly around under the water with every new wave. I was in the process of drowning, but due to the concussion, I seemed impervious to understanding how serious that was. It was then I heard a question being asked of me. “Joe, what are you doing?” “I’m drowning,” came back my reply from my subconscious mind. Yet I was not panicked by what I heard as my answer, but rather relaxed and accepting of the fact that I was indeed in the process of drowning, as wave after wave continued rolling my body around under the water.

Then I heard a word of encouragement, “You don’t want to do that! God has so much more in store for your life.” I then began to receive instructions in a cheerleading kind of way. “Stand Up! You can do it!” Struggling to get on my feet a wave hit me, and once again I found myself rolling around under the water. “Don’t Quit Joe!” Come on, YOU CAN DO IT! KEEP TRYING!” So once more, with wobbling knees I struggled to regain my standing position, which this time I did successfully. There was only one problem, which way was it to the shore?

The concussion had drained me of strength. I knew it would take all I had just to walk ashore. But it was important to walk in the correct direction. The waves kept battering me, and I had to concentrate very hard to open my eyes just a small slant, to look for the shore line. Getting my bearing, I again closed my eyes and began walking zombie like, toward the shore.

When physically I felt I was no longer in the water I collapsed onto the sand.

My friend Mike had run across the street to a nearby motel getting help. I could hear their voices as they began to speculate if I were alive or not. “Joe, are you O.K?” I heard Mike ask me over and over, pleading for me to answer him. I then heard the deep voice of a man saying, “He’s still alive. Let’s carry him over to the lounge chair, and let him rest for awhile.” I did not know who this man was. Later I discovered he was a minister from my home state of Kentucky, who was down on vacation with his wife.

I wanted so badly to open my eyes and speak. Letting them know I was alright. But a voice inside cautioned me not to use the energy, as I needed it to concentrate on getting my brain unscrambled first. That was a task taking all the energy I could muster. It took me almost an hour before I dared open my eyes and attempt to speak. Meanwhile the Minister’s wife had attended to the cut I had received on my left arm, near the inside of my elbow. She poured some Listerine on it, trying to prevent infection. My arm had hit a sharp barnacle on the side of the piling I had landed on. Although the cut was about a half inch deep, the skin was pure white and almost no bleeding occurred.

At last when I was able to open my eyes, I began to thank everyone for the help they had given. Mike then said, “You were unconscious on the beach. Did you know that?” “No I wasn’t unconscious, not even for a minute. I could hear everything you said.” Mike then challenged me to prove it. So I related everything he and the minister had said while standing over my seemingly lifeless body. Having repeated everything verbatim, Mike angrily said, “Why didn’t you speak up and answer me? I was worried that you were dead. I was wondering what I would tell your grandparents.”

I told Mike of how I had no energy within to speak or even to open my eyes, though I had tried. I then told of how badly I wanted to at least open my eyes, let alone talk. But I told him a voice inside forbade my doing so, telling me I needed first to use all of my energy to unscramble my brain. This was the second attempt of satan to drown me. But my Guardian Angel was on the job, advising and cheering me on to safety.

The really wild thing in all of this was I never let go of either my fishing rod, or my shoes and socks. I carried them to shore with me, and had held on, even when tumbling under the water. I was completely unaware that I had done this, until it was reported they had to pry them from my hands before carrying me over to the motel to lie down.