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A Reflection of Faith by Bro. Michael W. Catledge Copyright 2000. All Rights Reserved. "I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in me will live, even though he dies; and whoever lives and believes in me will never die." (John 11:25,26) I have never written of this experience. Indeed, rekindling these memories will be somewhat difficult. However, a part of healing oneself is being able to recollect tragic events and move on. If a person attempts to bury these experiences then, like seeds that are denied sunlight, nothing will come of it. It is better to let go of the bad times, bring them to light, and let the healing seeds grow. So, here it goes.
Spring Break, 1987 found me, at the time a 21-year old sophomore architect major at Florida A&M University, where I usually spent my school hiatuses--in the safe comfort of the family fold. While many of my fellow classmates were probably carousing and 'boozin' it up' over in Panama City or Daytona, I was doing what I loved best--hanging out with my six-year old baby brother James (below left). Yet, I did get to enjoy what promised to be a relaxing week of fun and sun on the beach.
Luckily, her first "timeslot" popped up just in time for my spring break. In addition, our family had not been having a good year emotionally--my eldest cousin Roma had just died of cancer; Mama Lorraine, Mother's mother, had had a debilitating stroke; my brother Greg had tried to harm himself over personal issues; and I myself nearly died of acute appendecitis. We really needed a vacation break. Unfortunately, Mother found she couldn't take the time off from work to be able to enjoy the slot herself. Despite this, rather than pass over her time, she decided that it would be okay for James and I to hang out at the condo for the week and she would join us at the weekend. Of course, I didn't argue--I mean chillin'out unsupervised at your folk's beach resort was a college student's best dream vacation! Though, not many twenty year olds would have welcomed the notion that your 6-year old baby brother had to tag along in the bargain. But not I--Jimmy was my whole world.
So, off we went, Jimmy and I, over to Indian Rocks Beach, two excited eager beavers anxiously anticipating our latest bonding adventure. To say Jimmy was precious is an understatement. That boy just bubbled over with joy and his smile could warm the coldest heart. He said the wittiest things, always seemed to be in the happiest spirits, and was quite intelligent for his age. Indeed, he taught himself how to read by thumbing through the TV Guide and matching the program listings to the broadcasts as they came on air! Man, when we figured out what he was doing, we were just amazed.
Anyway, the week started pleasantly enough. Though the luxurious condo had two plush bedrooms and a sofa bed, Jimmy insisted on hopping in bed next to me each night as he never really liked sleeping on his own, plus, he was in unfamiliar surroundings. After breakfast, I usually tucked him into his swimming trunks, gathered up his sand bucket and toys, and virtually let Jimmy pull me down the stairs so that we could spend hours on the beach each afternoon. Yet, we never stayed down there past 3pm--Jimmy just could not miss his back-to-back episodes of the "Flintstones".
While I sat and read on a welcomely laid out beach towel, Jimmy would play nearby building 'sand houses' ("No, Mike, a castle's too big for me. I'm little, so all I need is a house") and racing up and down the shore with an English boy he met named "Paul", whose parents were staying at the same resort. I was careful to make certain Jimmy never strayed too close to the shoreline or the resort's pool; he had yet to be exposed to so much water, thus, Jimmy did not know how to swim. Indeed, perhaps because of what would later happen that week, he still doesn't.
Thusly, our time on Indian Rocks Beach went for two very uneventful days. On the third day, however, Jimmy had slept very restlessly and woke up crying. When I asked what was wrong, he told me he had had a bad dream. In the dream several people were standing over him, many were crying, and Mother was somewhere nearby with some hysterical woman. Noticing my distress, Jimmy took my hand and said, "But don't worry Mike. I was all right. Everything was a-okay in the end." With that Jimmy blissfully bounded out of the room and returned to his happy-go-lucky self.
Though relieved that the dream did not seem to have upset him too much, I was still a bit unnerved and mentioned as much to Mother when she called later that morning. Bothered herself--Jimmy had never had bad dreams before--she decided that after work she would make a special effort to hop over the bay and pay us a visit to make certain Jimmy was okay.
That day, Jimmy and I went down to the beach as usual, had great fun, and returned to the condo just in time for Jimmy to catch the Flintstones, which he usually watched over a bowl of Fruit Loops. Then I realized that we were out of milk. Now, I've never seen a child who loved milk as much as this boy did, and still does come to think of it. Thus, not wanting to upset him further, I told Jimmy that I would pop over to the convenience store right across the street from the resort, get some more milk, and be right back; making him promise he'd stay at the dining room table and not move until I got back. I'll always remember this--I dashed over to the store, purchased a pint of milk, and quickly dashed back, not at all comfortable with leaving my baby brother alone in the condo. When I breathlessly threw open the door, their Jimmy was, still at the table, his legs dangling precociously off the chair. His face lit up when I came through the portal and he blurted, "See, I didn't mooooooooooove!" I could have cried.
Well, Jimmy and I continued to have fun that evening and did not even think about his dream until Mother came bounding through the front door just after sunset and practically interrogated the poor child about the experience. I understood, though. We have a deeply spiritual and earthy family that takes such occurrences very seriously. Confident Jimmy was fine, Mother decided that she would take him on a moonlit stroll on the beach while I prepared dinner. Not fifteen minutes later, she returned without Jimmy looking quite puzzled. "Michael, did James came back up here?", she asked, glancing about the condo. "No, no he didn't", I replied. "I thought he was with you?"
"He was", she assured. "but I stopped to speak to someone downstairs and when I turned around he was gone." Instantly, Mother and I became agitated.
When he was much younger James had developed a habit of toddling off whenever we took him to a department store. You've got to remember this was the early 1980s and Adam Walsh had just been abducted and killed. Everyone was on edge. This habit, understandably, was unnerving and we had thought he had grown out of it. Now, I thought as I threw on my shoes, he had gone off and done it again.
Immediately, Mother and I ran back downstairs to the resort's back patio facing the beach. Mother, thinking Jimmy might have wondered on shore, decided to search there while I tried to figure out where else he might of gone. Then, out of the corner of my left eye, I caught sight of some guy whom, as he had stuck a pole under the surface, I thought was cleaning the pool. Which was odd given the time of day. Suddenly, someone shouted, "Oh, my God! There's a child at the bottom of the pool!" My heart dropped. This wasn't happening.
"No!", I screamed as I dashed toward the pool area. Mother came running behind me. Sprinting now, I reached the edge of the pool and looked down, I could barely make out a small fuzzy form lying motionless on the bottom. I'll never forget the sight. The only thing that registered was that, whatever that was at the bottom of the pool, it was wearing the very same striped shirt and blue shorts I had dressed Jimmy in that afternoon. Again, I screamed. "No!"
This time, I guess by the way the word came pouring horrifically out of my mouth, Mother must have realized it was her child that the stranger was trying to fish out of the pool. She called out Jimmy's name then some woman, I don't know who, let out this blood curdling, anguished cry that I well never get out of my head. At that instant some ladies who seemed to come out of no where fell upon my mother and held her back, refusing to allow her to see what I was seeing. Restrained, Mother sat down and started to pray silently as the ladies tried to comfort her.
Without thinking, I threw off my glasses and jumped into the pool just as the stranger had snagged the netted end of the pole around Jimmy's legs and scooped him off the bottom. I swam over and grabbed hold of Jimmy's seemingly lifeless body. He was limp. It was awful. By then several people had gathered at the edge of the pool and many helped me lift Jimmy out of the water and onto the deck. Instinctively, the stranger who had pulled him off the bottom and I began administering CPR--I've never been so thankful of my high school gym teacher in my entire life. Because of her I was using a procedure that, when taught, I considered a complete waste of a perfectly good hour of PE.
I won't describe to you the ugliness involved in trying to pump air into the waterlogged lungs of a 6-year old child while someone else tries to jump-start his heart. I don't wish the experience on anyone. But it had to be done. The stranger and I worked vigorously to bring some kind of life back into Jimmy's glazed over eyes. As I struggled to keep my mouth over his, those once bright sparkling eyes never moved, never blinked, never twinkled. Meanwhile, Mother was unusually calm, surrounded by hysterical ladies, and people were standing around crying. I suddenly remembered Jimmy's dream. I get chills even now just thinking about it.
After what seemed like hours, but were in actuality a few horror-filled minutes, the paramedics finally arrived and ordered the stranger and I to stand back while they tried to resuscitate Jimmy. As soon as I heard one of them shout, "We've got a pulse!", just like in the movies, I got up and ran over to Mother and told her that James was still alive. The look of despair in her eyes was what finally made me bust out in tears. Until then it had not really registered that this was happening to my family, I was simply going through the motions and operating on adrenalin. Now it hit me, my baby brother might not see tomorrow. I fell apart.
As soon as they got him somewhat stabilized, though we later learned his heart gave out once more in transport, the paramedics loaded Jimmy into an ambulance and took him to a nearby hospital. Mother, having regained her composure, rode along. After someone located my glasses, I was blind as a bat, the resort manager drove me to the hospital. That was when one of the paramedics took me aside and told me that the stranger and I had probably saved Jimmy's life by acting quickly and administering CPR. He seemed very pleased. The only thing I could think of was what the doctors had just told me. They were having difficulty keeping Jimmy's heart pumping and had exhausted all they could do there. Thus, they had to med-evac him to another hospital down in St. Pete.
Hours later, once we were told that Jimmy's heart was stronger, though he languished in a coma in the ICU, Mother insisted that I go back to Indian Rocks Beach with the resort manager, get some rest, and call my brother Greg who was still back home in Tampa. Emotionally drained, I did like I was told, dialing Greg as soon as I reached the condo. Mother had called him from the hospital, so he was aware of the emergency, however, he had news and he wasn't certain whether he should bother Mother with the details. Figuring it was something trivial, as was Greg's habit, I asked him to tell me and I'd relay it to Mother when she'd be in better spirits. Then he says, "I just got a call from Key West..Ambay died."
I was floored. Ambay was the cherished family nickname of my maternal grandfather's only sister, Vandalean Mingo--she was also my mother's favorite aunt. A retired schoolteacher, she was a very stately, majestic woman who's tremendous grace of being and sureness of presence made her seem taller than she really was. Granddad adored her and Mother admired Ambay for her great wisdom, calming influence, and singular wit. What I remember best was how much fun it was to have her around at special occasions, like Christmas and Birthdays.
A widow who had not been blessed with children of her own, Ambay, who was a dedicated Sunday School teacher at Bethel AME for eons, found pleasure in life by dispensing love and giving to others. When it came to her brother's brood--well, she showered us all with hundreds of engulfing hugs, thoughtful gifts, and warm birthday cards. Indeed, Ambay never failed to send me a card, stuffed with money, each year. I was lucky if I got a phone call from my own father!
Every Christmas Ambay would make huge batches of homemade peppermint candy and mail them out to family members across the country. Indeed, the holiday season did not officially begin at our house until that sweet smelling package arrived. Sometimes, even the postman didn't want to let it go!
Though in her eighties and often ailing, Ambay still had vigor and pep the last time we were all back home. The last thing we all thought when we said our goodbye was that we'd never see her again. I knew the news of Ambay's unexpected death, coming on the very day Jimmy's own life stood in the balance, would deeply wound my Mother. Thus, despite my own physical and mental exhaustion and the lateness of the hour, I located the keys to Mother's car and began the forty-five minute drive through the streets of Pinellas County back to Children's Hospital. In route, as I practiced ways I might break this devastating news to my Mother, I kept asking God why was he doing this to my family? What had we ever done to deserve back-to-back tragedies, one of which was still ongoing. Indeed, it seemed the more I drove, the less faith I had in Him. He had abandoned us, I had convinced myself. We had been scorned.
Then, just as I pulled into the hospital parking lot and switched off the ignition, it suddenly hit me. This was God's plan. Ambay died for a reason. This was her last gift to our family. I suddenly had this vision of her, standing at the foot of the throne of God, telling him, "Father, I'm here in this little boy's stead." It was the ultimate sacrifice.
Leaping out of the car, I paused for a moment and said a little prayer. In it I thanked God for his great goodness, begged him to forgive me for doubting him during my drive, and asked him to listen to his child Ambay. On earth she had watched out for and nourished our family, I had no reason to doubt she wouldn't continue to do so in Heaven with his blessing.
My spirit and faith renewed, I somehow found the courage to walk up to Mother just as she was coming out of the hospital's chapel--seems we were both in prayer at the same time. We then went into a private waiting room where I sat down and broke the news. She listened patiently, then got up and returned to Jimmy's side without saying a word. I knew instantly she had come to the same conclusion that I had. Ambay would never let anything untoward happen to her favorite nieces' child.
Thirty-six very touch and go hours later, James Robert Bell, Jr. awoke from his coma. His first, almost inaudible words were, "I want milk". I cried and laughed at the same time. Luckily, though he had to spend the next two days in the hospital, Jimmy walked away from his experience with no brain damage whatsoever, despite the fact he must have been underwater for a good while. We never did find out the name of the stranger who scooped him off the bottom and helped me with CPR, it turns out he and his wife had just been looking over another unit and happened to spot Jimmy in the pool from a third floor balcony.
Today, James (he no longer likes us to call him "Jimmy"), is ironically in HIS sophomore year at college, majoring in computer engineering at the University of South Florida. Though he has no memory of the incident, to this day James will not go anywhere near a swimming pool. Why did he wonder over there in the first place? I knew that the minute I looked up as the paramedics were working on him--we were all huddled near the pool's slide. Jimmy loved to slide whenever I took him to the park. He just didn't realize that this time, instead of a mound of soft comforting sand, this particular slide had eight feet of water at other end.
It has taken me a long time to get over this event. For many years afterwards, though I never told anyone, I experienced horrifying flashbacks and tormenting nightmares that had me jumping out of my skin in the middle of the night. The visions of seeing my baby brother at the bottom of the pool and of him struggling to stay afloat as he sunk, are images I cannot shake off. I'm gladdened that those ladies held my Mother back so she didn't have to witness the same. However, my continued faith in God saw me through this tragedy, so much so that I am now able to write about it after thirteen years of self-enforced literary silence. I've placed many personal experiences on paper, this was not one of them.
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See, Mother had just signed on with one of those time-share outfits that were booming up all over the Suncoast in the mid-1980s. As we lived in nearby Tampa, Mother thought having a time-share would prove a beneficial investment for the family-a luxury we could enjoy once a year without having to journey far from home. Plus, she could also 'trade' in her allotted weeks for stays at similar resorts across the country.
And Ambay? Well, a week after Jimmy was released we all attended her funeral down in Key West. It was a solemn occasion, she had meant so much to many people, but I was not saddened. As they wheeled her coffin over to the front pew inside Bethel where we all stood in support of my devastated Granddad (he died soon thereafter), I leaned over and loving kissed her forehead, whispering "thank you" as I rose. Even in death Ambay appeared regal and serene. Later that day James and I played 'catch me if you can' in the alley alongside my grandparent's home. As he giggled, laughed, and leaped trying to avoid my grasp, I couldn't help but smile and look up to heaven. Ambay's Gift is doing just fine.