A Defining Moment

The tide ran in through the inlet so fast, you couldn't keep your line on the bottom. It's difficult fishing the jetty then: casting and reeling-in, trying to keep your lure off the rocks, the salt water splashing up from the waves below. When the tide is this low, the slick rocks are exposed; you have to be careful. As I cast my bucktail out for the thousandth time, I heard a faint voice call, "Help me."

I turned to see a boy - perhaps ten or twelve - scrambling in the water. He had slipped on the rocks; and though he tried, he could not fight the tide that was pulling him in. I looked around at all of the people there, but no one could move. We were all frozen by the sight of that boy ... and the danger of the sea. He defiantly held his fishing pole above his head as the waves tugged him in; then he looked at me and called again, "Help me."

I tossed my rod to the ground and scrambled down the rocks. I reached out and grabbed the end of his fishing pole, pulled him in far enough to grab his hand, and - with the help of another man who followed me down - pulled him safely back onto the rocks. Perhaps I helped to save a life that day ... I guess I'll never know; but I did learn something about myself and the content of my character. It was a long time ago - I was in my mid-twenties - and I liked the part of me that said, "Go Time."

We all find ourselves in these situations at one time or another. Inside each of us, there is a voice that says "I may be afraid, but I'm not going to stand here ... I'm going to do what I can." When you face these defining moments, do you listen to that voice? Over the years, I've tried to nurture that part of my character I'll just call intestinal fortitude; and once you've risen to the occasion, you'll find the next time is just a little easier.