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The tree branch was approaching so fast, I had no choice but to duck. Since I had failed the steering test on our one and only practice trip down the river, I was in the front of the kayak. Michele, Hewlett Packard Planning Manager and women's director at our church, had done a touch better than me, so she was in the rear and responsible for maneuvering our vessel down the American River.

We were just getting started, and the river was broad and smooth where we were. I had just gotten the wristband from Julie, the biker in our triathlon team, had raced across the bridge and jumped in our waiting kayak. We paddled as fast as we could until the screaming throng (not) on the shore couldn't see us anymore. The rapids to be feared were still a ways off, so we were taking a minute to get situated in the kayak.

And then it happened. Before we could say "why in the world are we doing this," our canoe got sucked into a deep, fast current that was making its way toward the right hand shore of the river. Mind you, the river looks perfectly tranquil here. No rocks, no rapids, no white water. In fact, we didn't even notice any trees drooping over the edge until we were under one.

And there was nothing to do but duck. As I headed under the branches, I tried to block out the image of deep scrapes along my check bones. Instead, my mind turned to Michele. How would I keep the tree from being a living catapult that would hurl her bruised and scratched into the water? Hmm…Let go of the branch slowly? "Noooooohh, that won't work" I screeched inwardly as the canoe flipped and started racing away from me.

Now Michele and I were flowing down stream trying to catch our breath and our boat.

"Do you need any help?" a fellow racer called.
"No, we're fine." How mortifying to turn the kayak over in the first quarter mile of the race.

"Are you guys okay?" someone else said as they paddled away.
"No, we've got it." But I was beginning to wonder.

The current was really fast now, and it was pulling us downstream. And, this is in the Sierra foothills. It might be July, but this water still started out as snow. We had our kayak, but we would have to swim to the other more shallow side of the river, across the current, if we were ever going to flip this boat and get back in it.

I was having trouble catching my breath. The thought of hypothermia whizzed through my mind. "Could I really die here?" Michele was breathing fast just like me. We were both getting wide-eyed and more than a little nervous. "Hu-I-think-uh-we-needuh-help."
I certainly hadn't planned on paying an entrance fee to die today.

"Stand up, Melissa." Could I be there already?
"Try standing up, Melissa."
Sure enough, we had made it to shallowness. We had survived our harrowing plunge.

We composed ourselves and took an inventory of all our belongings that would spend the rest of the day bobbing down the river. Wow, and we thought we didn't need any help? Or maybe we were just hoping we wouldn't need help-- hoping we could do it ourselves. I'm not sure if the water has ever scared me like that before.

As my potential drowning presented itself, so did all the other times and other places I've needed help desperately, and was too proud to ask. I've even come to realize that my New Year's goal will be quite impossible to reach without some help.

Ecclesiastes says "Two are better than one because they have a good return for their labor. For if either of them falls, the one will lift up his companion. But woe to the one who falls when there is not another to lift him up. ..A cord of three strands is not quickly torn apart."

So, before I drown this time, I've involved some help in the "one-thing" I intend to improve this year. I can't believe what a difference it makes.

Do you need help in some area, but you're too proud to ask: with your marriage, your kids, your parents? While you can still catch your breath, find a friend and ask for some help, You'll be glad you did.

Drowning is not fun.

"God's Words For US" from Cecelia Lester

Renew a Right Spirit