just waitin’ for you, dad
In the mid-1980s a missionary family serving overseas came home on furlough, needing a little R&R. Through the graciousness of friends, they’d been provided with the use of a summer home on a beautiful lake. For these tired, front-line warriors, it was like a piece of Eden.
One bright summer morning, Mom was in the kitchen fussing with the baby and preparing a lunch for the family. Dad was in the boathouse puttering with something that needed some puttering. And the three children present were out on the lawn between the home and the edge of the lake. Three-year-old “little Billy” was under the care of a five-year-old sister and a twelve-year-old cousin.
When Sister and Cousin became distracted with some mutual interest, little Billy decided it would be an opportune time to wander down to the water and check out that shiny little aluminum boat that had been bobbing so temptingly beside the dock. The trouble is, three-year-olds have limited experience in getting from a stable dock to a bobbing boat. With one foot on the dock and the other stretching toward the boat, Little Billy lost his balance and fell into five or six feet of water beside the dock.
The splash alerted the twelve-year-old, who let loose a piercing scream. That brought Dad on the run. After scoping out the situation for a second or two, he dove into the murky water and began a desperate search for his little boy. But the water was murky, and Dad couldn’t see a thing. With lungs desperate for air, he resurfaced, grabbed another ragged gasp, and plunged back under. Sick with panic, the only thing he could think to do was to extend his arms and legs as far as he could and try to feel little Billy’s whereabouts. Having nearly exhausted his oxygen supply a second time, he began to ascend once again for another breath.
On his way up, he felt little Billy, arms locked in a death grip to a pier post some four feet under the water. Prying the boy’s fingers loose, they burst through the surface to fill their lungs with life-giving air.
Adrenaline continued to surge. Conversation would not return to normal for a long time. Dad just carried little Billy around, holding him close, unable to put him down for some time. Finally, when heart rates had returned to normal and nerves had calmed a bit, this missionary dad turned to his little boy with a question.
“Billy, what on earth were you doing down there, hanging onto that post so far under water?”
Little Billy’s reply, laced with all the wisdom of a tot, reaches out and grabs us by the throat.
“Just waitin’ for you, Dad. Just waitin’ for you!”
Weber, Stu. (1997). Four Pillars of a Man's Heart. Sisters: Multnomah.