I went to church a couple Sundays back for the first time in forever. The choir was terrible. I wanted good gospel so I looked up the gospel channel on my TV. This is working well for me.

I've become obsessed with Marvin Sapp. (I'd never heard his name until Monday.) "Praise Him in Advance"? Are you familar? If not CLICK HERE.

Stay with me.

I fell asleep on the couch again. Haven't slept in my bed in two weeks. I've got my body on a schedule so I know about when I'm supposed to wake up even when I'm still asleep. Phone alarm goes off at x:xx. Wake up. Turn it off. And if I have no pressing matters, I go back to sleep. Real alarm goes off 45 minutes later at which point I actually get up.

X:XX: alarm goes off.

No pressing matters.

I'm on a plane, supposed to be meeting up with my parents for our Christmas island-vacay. The captain announces that our trays need to go up and our seats should be upright for our descent into St. Johns.

What? I'm supposed to be headed to St. Thomas. I must be dreaming because this is nearly impossible in real life. But it's happened.

F*ck.

I'm panicky at first, but I have my credit card. I'll just buy a plane to St. Thomas when I land. Damn. I wasn't trying to spend money like this. 

When the plane lands, no one claps. Wasn't this island occupied by Brits? I deboard and walk into the airport to find where I can buy a ticket. I mean, it's a plane, not Amtrak. I can't just walk up to a kiosk.

I run into my parents in the airport. They've flown in from BWI. They thought I was flying into St. Thomas too. My father tells me not to sweat the error. We can take a water plane to St. Thomas easy. And cheap. Look at that. The Lord works in mysterious ways.

I remember the water plane from St. Thomas when I was there for Memorial Day. It was the first time I'd seen one. I was sitting in this bar by the highway, which was by the ocean and I watched the planes take off and land. I took a million pics because I was totally fascinated.

So we're attempting to board this water plane. We have to walk through a glass door to get onto the dock where the water plane will leave from. There's a woman at the door who let's my mom through, but stops me. I have to pay a $15 surcharge since my passport is expired. Nevermind that St. Thomas is a U.S. Territory and I shouldn't need one as an American citizen. Whatever.

As usual, I have no cash. I have to go to the ATM.* The woman at the gate directs me to cheque point not far away. She says I have plenty of time to catch the plane. My dad says he'll go with me. He follows behind me to get the cash.

My Mom gets on the plane.

When we get back to the gate everyone's gone. The glass door that leads outside is open, so I snatch the handle back and run onto the dock with my dad hot on my heels.

The dock is weird. It's like a giant flotation device. Like a huge air mattress. It's hella windy out here. Because the plane is taking off with my mother on it?? No, because a storm is coming and that airplane is spinning all around like the helicopter in I Am Legend with Will Smith's family aboard.

I jump up and down on this floatie thing trying to get their attention to come back. I don't need to work air traffic control to know it ain't safe to take that toy plane up and out to sea right now. They won't last the 20 minute flight.

The plane keeps going. My Dad tells me to give up, that they're not coming back for us. But what about Mommy? We stand there watching the plane go off, getting tossed around in the sky like a feather.

F*ck.

The angle we're watching the plane from starts to shift. I look back at the airport. It's getting further in the distance. We're moving.

We're moving!

The flotation device thing has become unhitched from land. We are floating out to sea and a strom is coming. There are lots of waves. My stomach is lurching. My dad and I run to the "front" of the floatie and pull it up and the front so it looks like we're riding Santa's sleigh. Easier for us on the waves this way.

He's telling me it'll all be fine. We'll be fine. We'll stay on this thing as long as we can. Luckily, the way the island is set up, there are several mini-islands we can float into, he says. He adds something about the direction of the wind and how this works in our favor. I wonder if he knows this because he's from the country or because he was in the Navy almost 50 years ago. I guess some things stay with you no matter when you learn 'em.

The wind picks up, so the waves break harder. We're being tossed around like the feather that was Mommy's plane.

This floatie's not gonna hold up.

"Okay," Dad says. I can tell he's scared because his voice cracks. My roomate in London called him Barry White because of his voice. "If we get tossed off, we can swim to the nearest island," he says. "If we are where I think, it should be no more than a half mile away."

He points into the distance. I look. It's dark. I can't see ish. Is the power out on the island??

"You can swim?" I ask. I recall a story from when he was a kid in the country. He watched a boy his age drown because the boy jumped in the creek as a joke, thinking someone would save him and no one there knew how to swim. I can't imagine what that must be like. To watch someone die and there's nothing you can do.

He shakes his head to say it doesn't matter. The wind picks up. Just when I think it can't get any worse, it does. "I'll be all right. You just swim," my Dad says. "Swim where I told you. Don't worry about me."

I look over at him beside me. It's dark out here, but I can see him from the moonlight. He's got tears streaming down his cheeks. The only other time I've seen him cry was at his mother's funeral. Everyone had left the gravesite to go to the repass and my mom sat next to him in a folding chair. I sat the row behind him. He cried. He was inconsolable so we didn't try even try to comfort him. We just waited there with him.

"Dad," I say. "I can't swim."

"W-w-hat?" he sputters. His face crumbles. "Your mother? She never got you lessons?"

My dad travelled a lot for work when I was kid. He missed a lot. 

I shake my head.

He thinks this is the end. I can see it all over his face. Maybe it is. The waves break, the wind picks up even further. My stomach churns. The rain stings my face.

I think about Miami in '04 when I almost drowned in front of the Lowes hotel. I was 25. The water rolled over my head but my life didn't flash before my eyes like I heard it would. I was paralyzed with panic. Maybe if that man hadn't rescued me when he did, it would have. I wonder if my Dad will last longer because he's got more life to see. More than double my time.

I think about my aunt— my grandmother's sister***. She's gone now too. But at my grandmother's funeral, she was the only person who rose for the final call. She took her time with her walker. At the casket, she looked down at a sister's body, patted the side of the coffin and said, "Sister, we had some good times, didn't we?" She sighed deep, then headed back to her seat. Seventy-some odd years of knowing someone and that's what it boils down to.

You're here. Until you're not. 

I remember my grandfather's rule about the whole family flying together. He was afraid if the plane fell out the sky, the whole clan would be lost. They always seperated. So did we. I hope Mommy makes it. We probably won't.

I look over at my dad again. He's staring straight ahead. When I think he's not paying attention, he put his hand over mine. "It'll be all right," he lies.

I nod. It won't, but I hope it's quick.

We land into a wave. Another one comes and goes over our heads.

I spit out the water. I don't know what else to do, so I sing. 

I've had my share of ups and downs

Times when there was no one around

God came and spoke his words to me

Praise will confuse the enemy

 

So I stared singing

I started clapping

I started dancing

People were laughing

They knew my problems

They knew my pain

But I knew God would take them away

The wind picks up. The waves crash harder. The water goes over my head. The water goes over my head.

 Jesus. Not like this.

The first time I called on God, my fiberglass car hydroplaned and 180'd when I was headed back from the store getting bread for my mother. I was 16. My head hit the window. Alanis Morrisette blasted from my system. The car went up on the curb. The guardrail stopped it from going into the ditch 20 feet down.

It happened again when my car 180'd on the Beltway. I lost control of it. (I know why. I've never told anyone the real reason.) I swerved across three lanes of traffic. When the car stopped, I was facing traffic. I looked up and all the cars had stopped 20 yards back. It was like a forcefield around me. 

I passed out on that elevator to the sky in the London tube. Someone caught me.

I guess I'm out of chances.

I start to cry.

I keep singing. Jesus Keep Me Near the Cross. How Ex-cellent. Order My Steps in Your Word. **

We hit something hard. The impact jerks us off the floatie. I'm going into the water in what feels like slow motion. 

Jesus, not like this. 

We land with thuds on something solid. I dig my fingers in. Sand. Land.

 I kneel into the ground, bowing my head into the sand and sob.

He's given me a second chance.

I wake up.

*If I were awake, I'd just ask my dad. He's an old-school guy that feels naked without at least a $20 in his pocket.

**My grandmother was the organist and choir director at her church. At her funeral, everyone in attendance who ever sang in the choir was asked to return to the choir stand and send her home. I didn't cry when they closed the casket. I boo-hooed when they sang this song. They'd NEVER sounded like that before. Not in my lifetime.

***This is the same aunt that pulled me into her bosom when my grandfather passed.