Proof The Bible Is True

t was Sunday evening. The sun was setting on a choppy, cool day on Florida’s Indian River. I’d skippered a Coast Guard Auxiliary vessel for eight years.

My crew and I were civilian volunteers, but the US Coast Guard relied on us to keep the folks who were fishing or sailing these waters safe. Patrolling this river never felt like work to me.

Besides being outside on the water, I liked knowing I was watching out for anyone who might need help. So far I’d rescued a dozen or so people in trouble. My mother might have said I acted as a kind of guardian angel.

When I was growing up in Alsace, France, she hung two pictures of angels above my bed to watch out for me. I wasn’t so sure I believed in real angels anymore, but I believed in the power of my boat, the Alsace II, and her crew to save lives.

Nobody needs saving today, though, I thought looking out at the wide open river. Today my first mate and I had hardly seen one boat since our shift began at 8:30 that morning.

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