Help is at Hand

Help is at Hand

One Sunday in January I got up early and set off for a large church about fifteen miles away, to play for the 11am service.  Normally I would have felt rather nervous, as I had been asked to do this only the day before and was not familiar with the instrument (a Clavinova linked to the sound system) nor with anyone in the big congregation.  But somehow I felt instead a lovely overwhelming sense of calm – which was to prove an advantage later in the day...

All went well, and on my return I decided to go for a walk in the bright sunshine.  After four weeks of constant snow and ice it was a cause for celebration to be able once again to step out confidently without fear of slipping.  Usually I would have headed for the seafront but, having heard that the River Ayr was in spate, swollen with all the melted snow, I felt prompted to make for that instead.  After parking my car, I walked along the road past the fire station, then just before the road bridge I turned down to the paved walkway beside the fast-flowing river.

As I strode along the sunny north bank I met a few other walkers, all warmly wrapped up against the cold air.  But when I crossed over the footbridge to head back up river towards the road bridge, there was nobody else at all on the shady south side, where occasional remnants of snow and ice were still to be seen.  The walkway led under the bridge, finishing at a small car park, where there were only two or three empty cars.  From there I had a close-up view of the powerful water as it thundered over a weir and swept swiftly down towards the sea - an awesome sight!   

A few yards away there was a gap in the car park wall, revealing a muddy path which followed the river upstream. I stepped through the gap and made my way to the very edge of the bank, in order to get a better view of the deceptively calm-looking surface of the water as the strong current below swept it towards the weir. 

Suddenly I caught sight of an object in the middle of the river, being carried rapidly downstream.  But then, to my absolute horror, I realised that the ‘object’ was in fact a man’s head, and that he was feebly calling “Help!”

What could I do?  If the man were to be tossed violently over the weir he might be injured, or worse, and carried out to sea.  I can’t swim – yet I was the only person available to help him!

“Try to get over to the bank,” I shouted, “and I’ll catch hold of you,” and, throwing myself down on to my stomach, I stretched my right hand over the water towards him.  With all my might I willed him to fight his way over to me.  The next few moments are a total blank!  I cannot recall seeing him do this, but somehow he managed to straighten himself up and struggle through the powerful current.  All I remember is that suddenly I was aware of his dripping gloved hand being only a few inches away, stretched out towards mine.  I wriggled forward until at last our fingers touched – then grabbed hold of his left hand and pulled him to the bank.

Below me was a stone structure encased in wire mesh (surrounding an outlet pipe).  I urged the man to take hold of the wire with his right hand while I continued to hold his left hand.  He managed to stand on a concrete ledge just below the surface, but found it impossible to lift his right foot out of the turbulent water in order to gain a foothold on the steep muddy bank.  I kept talking calmly to reassure and encourage him, but I knew that we now needed help.  Soaked to the skin, he was in danger of suffering from hypothermia.  Telling him to hold on tightly to the wire mesh, I stood up, looking round desperately for a long stick which might help me to pull him out.

But just then, to my great relief, I heard people calling to me from the opposite bank.

“Get the Fire Brigade!” I yelled, pointing towards the fire station.

At that very moment I heard the welcome siren of a fire engine leaving the station, and simultaneously, as it raced across the bridge and into the car park, two tall strong young men burst through the gap, ran to the bank, seized the man’s arms and pulled him to safety.

 As the firemen led him away, he turned to me and quietly said, “Thanks.”  I was very moved, but knew that I had been merely instrumental in his rescue.  It was, and remains, to me a complete miracle that he managed to reach me.  What happened during the moments which I can’t remember?  Perhaps our guardian angels came to our aid?  Whatever occurred, I feel that it was a case of Divine intervention, and I humbly thank God for the privilege of having been there, at just the right place at the right time.

To my astonishment, a report of the incident appeared a few days later in the local newspaper, with a photograph taken by an eye-witness, who was quoted as saying, “My son-in-law saw the man floating in the water and he seemed to be in some distress.  Somehow (my italics) he dragged himself to the side of the riverbank before a lady grabbed hold of his arm and held on to stop him floating away.”

Yes, somehow help was at hand...

Help is at Hand (sequel)

Although I had not wanted to tell anybody about the incident, lest I should sound as if I were seeking praise (which would be entirely misplaced), I could not help mentioning it when on the phone to my daughters a few hours later.  When Sally posted the story on Facebook I received phone calls from several family members, and my sister asked for a copy of the newspaper report.  For various reasons I did not manage to post it to her until two weeks later, on 4 February.

 The following morning, as I woke up, I sleepily thought, “Today Freda should receive my letter and the newspaper cutting with the photograph.”  After my customary Bible reading and prayers, I reached out for a book of 365 daily meditations, a Christmas present from a French friend in Brittany. Each entry has the day’s date and a text on the left-hand page, with an appropriate illustration on the opposite page.

Turning to the entry for that day, 5 February, I was astounded to see a painting of a man struggling to keep afloat in a stormy sea, his head just above the water!  His eyes are fixed upon a compassionate female figure who has appeared in the dark storm cloud just above him.  She has both hands opened out towards him.

In English, the text says: ‘Anyone who has never “lost his footing” doesn’t know what it is to “stretch out his hand”. Anyone who has never stretched out his hand, calling “Help”, doesn’t know that another hand can rescue him. Anyone who has stretched out his hand calling “Help” will hear, will let other hands stretch out towards his.’