I decided that I'd like to get another part time job about 3 years ago as a lifeguard. I did it in high school, and thought it would be a nice way to make a little extra money, along with a free Y membership.
So, I had to go to lifeguard training (which by the way, is WAY more intense than it was in high school). I signed up for a two weekend training at the YMCA. Let me tell you about the typical lifeguard trainee. They are usually young, fit, squeaky clean (from all the chlorine?), and on the swim team.
Well, not only did I not fit that description, neither did a young lady named Katie. She was not fit, had short bleached blond hair, tattoos, piercings, and did not appear "squeaky clean." She was also very very quiet.
I felt an immediate need to help her in some way. It was a deep, urgent feeling, that really came over me in a powerful way that first day. As I watched her "parents" drive up and pick her up after an exhausting first day, I couldn't put together the young lady's appearance with the elderly couple that picked her up. And despite my intense urgent feeling to help, I chickened out. I am NOT an outgoing person, and my fears and insecurity got the best of me that whole first weekend.
With bruised arms, and sore muscles (lifeguard training is hard for old ladies like myself!) I spent the next week in a lot of prayer for Katie. I really felt an intense need to do so, so much that I have trouble describing how it felt. I told my family about her, and asked them to pray as well.
The next weekend I finished lifeguard training with the flu; thank goodness for Advil! Nothing like having body aches and chills while jumping in and out of the pool, and pulling muscle-y teenage boys from the bottom of the pool, whose legs sink like rocks!
However, the most amazing story came from Katie that day! I purposefully joined the group she was in, and she was ALIVE that day. She shared with us that she was in foster care; she had been on the streets using and dealing drugs, living a rough and lost life. Then she excitedly shared that she became "born again" that week. She was just beaming, and so happy. I was completely floored.
I didn't know exactly what I was praying for that week, I just knew that I needed to do something. That the feeling was so powerful. I did give her a hug and wish her well. And that was it. We all took our written tests and left. And I've never seen her again.
That experience was so powerful for me and my faith, that I felt the need to share. I've never directed anyone to my blog, because I felt like I it was more of a diary for me, and who would be interested. But this story, is one for sharing. :)
