So we’re on the beach. In a surfing town called El Tunco in El Salvador. It was our off day so some of us went swimming in the Pacific Ocean. Totally gorgeous. Anyway, black sand, medium waves, and fairly rocky in parts. We were getting ready to leave so I went back out into the ocean to rinse the sand out of my swimsuit. While I was out there, some big waves came through and the current swept me backwards against a really sharp rock that was hidden under the water and I cut my foot.
We were deep enough out I couldn’t see it, but I felt it. I started swimming back to the shore and when I got closer I looked at my foot in the water and there is just a pool of blood (insert shark attack!). I got out of the water and walked toward our group that was a little farther up the beach and my foot is rapidly gushing blood to the point you can’t see my foot anymore. Every time the water washed it off, it was already covered again. I couldn’t see the cut or how deep it was, but there appeared to be at least an inch long gash where the blood was steadily flowing from.
I tried to remain calm as I walked toward the group trying to get their attention, but once I got there it starting squirting blood like a fountain a foot into the air (craziest thing I’ve ever seen) and I began to lose my cool. At this point I, along with my team, was pretty concerned about the amount of blood I was loosing in such a short time. One of the girls quickly grabbed her leggings to create a tourniquet and wrapped her towel around my foot and then elevated it above my head. We were trying to figure out where the clinic is and how to get me there when a local surfer came up who thankfully knew English. He told us where we could go and helped us flag down a guy who was selling horse rides on the beach who kindly let us use his horse to get me into town.
I would love for you to imagine with me the scene that was taking place. Here I am in my swimsuit with my foot wrapped in leggings and a towel. I’m picked up, put on a horse, and walked through the beach town while a teammate is holding my foot up and a small crowd following. Everyone and their mother was staring. Literally. Another local guy told us where the clinic was and thankfully the surfer who was helping us happened to have a car and was more than willing to take us there. He also happened to be a Christian and knew our host’s brother. So Cody, Nicole, an myself got in his car and he drove us to the clinic about 15 minutes away. My foot was in a lot of pain and I whispered a prayer asking the Lord to please just stop the bleeding.
We got to the clinic and they put me in a wheelchair and wheeled me into the room with everyone staring at the “gringo” asking what happened. It was quite the site. It was a super sketch clinic and although we haven’t seen the cut, by the amount of blood there was, we were thinking several stitches. They wheeled me into a room with other patients and I waited for the doctor. The doctor came a minute later, looked at me, and then angrily tells me to take the clothes off my foot. But in Spanish; which I didn’t understand, which made him more angry. I figured it out though and started taking it off. At which point Nicole, who knows Spanish, came into the room.
As I pulled the towel away from my foot we braced ourselves, expecting the blood to start gushing everywhere again. We looked at the doctor only to hear him say…”where is it?” Confused, I looked at my foot and….not a drop of blood was there! He kept looking at my foot asking Nicole what he was supposed to be looking at. I stood up to see if it would start bleeding wish pressure on it again. But still, no blood. I looked closer at my foot and the only thing I could see was just a tiny, tiny, tiny hole. That’s when the doctor started laughing at us like we were crazy! I grabbed the towel and showed him all the blood soaked in it and he just acted like we were the craziest American people he had ever met and mocked us. I walked out of the clinic and went home, haha. JESUS!
The guys driving us were expecting to see the bone in my foot and all I had to show them was a little hole. I walked back into Remar Children’s Home and the girls were shocked I was walking. It took me the rest of the day to process what had just happened.
God had been teaching me the past two months that I can trust Him to take care of my family, but that day I learned that I could also trust Him to take care of me. I’m traveling around the world to pray for the sick and to see them healed and miracles happen in their lives, but don’t forget that Jesus also wants to do the miraculous in own own lives too.
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