Ready or not ... Here I come! Those were the words that were on my mind when I woke up this morning. My mind was grasping at the last fading memories of the night. I lay in bed for a few minutes to form the thoughts that my mind was piecing together from the few fragments that I still had in focus.
I remember playing the game hide and seek when I was young. It was always fun to play day or night. One was chosen to count to 100 or more to give us all time to hide. When the count was finished came the announcement, “Ready or not, Here I come.” The next few minutes were anticipating being found out and having to run back to base. If you beat the counter and called safe, you were free to hide again the next game. If you were too slow or were laughing to hard to run, you had to do the counting and the seeking in the next game.
As I got older and married, it wasn’t long before my son was born. I enjoyed the time when he was a baby playing Peek a boo, and playing Where are you? I enjoyed it even more when we could play the game of hide and seek. To a child, a closet or a place behind the couch were good hiding places. It was easy to find him, but to a child they believe they are invisible. Make believe games were always fun. Most games turned into running and chasing after the other.
These were some of the thoughts going through my mind this morning, except that the words, “Ready or not, here I come,” were not from a game that I was playing.
I had sold my home on Grandview hill in Provo and I was living in Manti, Utah. I had rented an old pioneer home and was trying to clean up the house and the yard to make it more livable.
It was the spring of 1993. The weather was getting warmer and the trees and grass were beginning to grow green.
We had a canal behind our house that carried the meltwater from Manti Canyon. I watched as the water began to flow down the canal. It wasn’t very deep, but the water was flowing very fast. Manti is built on a hill and riding my bike down the hill was always more fun than peddling back up the hill. On this day I watched some school kids jump over the canal on their way to school. I made a comment about how foolish they were to jump over the canal. It was dangerous not because of the 12 inches of water, but because of the speed of the water. I had watched these same kids jump the canal several times. The canal was about 4 feet deep and 6 feet from one side to the other.
I had just turned 40 and my wife had made me a black cake with black decorations. I was not impressed with the symbolism of black and my birthday. I decided to walk to the store and get something I needed. Walking around the block to the store only took 5 minutes, but on this day I decided to cut through the block and jump over the canal. It would save me 2 minutes. I stood at the edge of the canal and looked at the 12 inches of water, it didn’t look that bad, I said to myself. I backed up and ran at the canal. I didn’t quite make it and as I tumbled into the canal I could feel panic hit me. The fast moving water knocked me off my feet and I found my self being carried down the rock and cement canal. My thoughts turned to the stories of another accident in this canal that had drowned a man. I could see the tunnel 250 feet ahead of me. The canal went underground for several miles before coming back out on the other side of Manti. There was nothing I could do to stop myself or grab the side of the canal. I was bruised and cut and bleeding as I neared to last 25 feet. The realization that I might die was flashing in my mind. I felt myself relax and everything slowed down to me. I called out calmly, “Ready or not, Here I come.”
This was the moment I had read about and wondered about and now, here it was. I was no longer panicked. I was calmly prepared to see what lie ahead after death.
It was not my time to die that day. I must have had more life to live. Ten feet before going underground, the canal had formed a whirlpool where some branches had been caught on the rocks. When I entered the pool, the water slowed down and I was just able to grab onto a rock that was jutting out. I held on tightly and was able to get my feet underneath me, stand and climb out. I laid on the bank for several minutes reviewing my experience. It had all happened in less than a minute, but to me it was much longer. I was wet, bruised and bleeding when I walked back to the house. I sat for some time in silence. I didn’t say anything for several days to my wife or son. I was too embarrassed and shaken at my near death experience.
This was the memory that was attached to my fleeting memories this morning when the words, “Ready or not, Here I come,” were fading away.
Sometimes accidents or foolish actions bring us close to death. We can choose to look at them as a warning or refuse to address the cause and reason for the experience. I have thought about my canal experience, it has helped me to appreciate the miracle that occurred that day in Manti. I was not ready to move from this world into the next. There were many more lessons for me to learn. This is one of the reasons that I now look at my life differently. I take time to notice a new flower that is pushing up from the soil. I think about the stories that I am told from a deeper perspective and look for understanding to life’s mysteries. I am not yet ready to cross over. My bucket list is still long.
My longtime friend came for thanksgiving. She is older than me and still lives in Manti. After catching up on the news, we sat and enjoyed a movie or two. We talked about the books that we were reading and how many eggs we were getting each day from the chickens. When the conversation paused, I ask her a question.
Are you prepared to die?
Have you done everything that you want to do? Without hesitation she said, I am ready to die. I have done everything. I have had a full life. I miss my husband who died nearly 20 years ago, I miss my young son who drowned at age 12. I miss my son who died just a few years ago. I am ready to go whenever I am called home. As they drove away, I felt gratitude to have this precious time with a good friend. The memories are warm and filled with a gratitude for knowing her. I will miss her if she should happen to die. She has made my life better and this world a better place by being here.
I wonder about my time here. How many more years I may be here. I don’t know the answer to that question. Long enough to finish my bucket list, I hope.The list is getting longer not shorter.
The words, “Ready or not, Here I come,” still echo in my heart. I was not ready that day in Manti. I am still not ready. There are many more miles to go before I rest ...
