Saved More Than Once

Saved More Than Once by Gene Poore For a time as a young child, I lived on a Maine farm. One of my summer joys included picnics at “Songo Locks.” Nestled between two mountains, surrounded by Pine forest and encompassed by a white-sand beach, the lake reflected a calm disposition whenever powerboats left the surface undisturbed. An adult could walk into the sparkling water seemingly forever before water lapped their chest. Although no one had ever drowned in that area of Songo Locks State Park, I almost changed statistics. And I remember each second like yesterday’s weather. That particular day, not waiting for adult supervision and propelled by a six-year-old’s excitement, I raced into the lake and stepped in a deep hole a few feet from shore. Engulfed, on my back looking up, I saw shoreline Pines waving crooked shadows through the water covering my head. The sun glistening behind the trees emitted a tranquil glow. I sensed I was drowning. Yet, I remember calmness, not fear. Then a voice in my head, as clear as these words you are reading, said, “Stand up and walk.” I stood, still looking up through the water over my head at the waving Pines and bright sun, and then I walked on the lake’s hard, sandy bottom and out of that hole toward shore. When my face broke the lake’s surface, I coughed and gasped for air. Saved from drowning, I remember looking for the adult who spoke those word, “Stand up and walk.” No one stood nearby. Soon, my child’s mind forgot the incident. Years later, while in the Marine Corps, I attended a stag party at Atlantic Beach, North Carolina. Driving back to the Cherry Point Air Station, I fell asleep for an instant. When I awoke, my car headlights aimed at the trees along the left shoulder. I jerked the wheel to the right. Now, the headlights aimed at the trees along the right shoulder. I jerked the wheel back to the left. Then, like in cadence, I jerked right, left, right, but the car remained out of my control. Sweat-soaked, I knew I was about to die. Then a voice in my head, as clear as the words you are reading, said, “Let go of the wheel.” “Let go of the wheel?” I remember repeating the words as a question and answering with a question. “Are you stupid?” Even as I responded, I recognized the voice as the same voice that had told me at the lake to “Stand up and walk.” For some reason, I trusted that voice. I released the steering wheel. Immediately, the car straightened out on the proper side of the dotted white line. Amazed, exhausted, and thankful, I grasped the steering wheel and continued traveling that curvy road between Morehead City and Cherry Point. Before an expressway replaced that old, curvy road, the highway section where my incident happened was the only straight portion of asphalt before the road continued to snake through the woodlands. Coincidence? I thought so at the time. Now, looking back, I think not. Again, that voice had saved my life. Again, I forgot the incident. Later, after military retirement, while hurrying to my civilian employment around 4:00 a.m., I stopped my car at an intersection traffic light. While I waited for the red light to change to green, not one headlight poked through the darkness on either highway. When the traffic light flicked to go, I quickly shifted my foot off the brake pedal to jam down against the accelerator. A voice in my head, as clear as the words you are reading, said, “Don’t go.” While my confused foot hovered for a split moment over the accelerator, a tandem log truck, lights out, thundered through the intersection. If I had stepped on the accelerator, the log truck and my compact would have met under the traffic signal. Again, that voice had saved my life. Again, I forgot the incident. My next “life” saving experience happened during church service. During the Altar Call, the voice in my head that had said “Stand up and walk,” and “Let go of

the wheel,” and “Don’t go,” spoke to me again as clearly as the words you are reading. The voice called. “Come, my child. Come to me.” Again, I responded to that voice. Was that God’s voice? I dare not say. However, because I listened, that voice had saved my earthly life once, twice, and three times. Why me? I have no answer. Perhaps that voice prepared me to answer my salvation call. Perhaps, after I answered my salvation call, God had plans for me. Perhaps, one plan was to write material like this. Reading material like this, perhaps, God planned for you. God Bless your thoughts.