31: Trust Your Intuition

31: Trust Your Intuition

From Chicken Soup for the Soul: Miracles and More

Trust Your Intuition

Intuition is a spiritual faculty and does not explain, but simply points the way.

~Florence Scovel Shinn

My wife had just left to go grocery shopping, but now she was calling. “Can you check on Michael?”

“You just left. He’s fine!”

“I feel like something’s wrong, honey. Just go check on him, please.”

Our son has high-functioning autism. He likes to wander.

I looked in the house and around the yard — no Michael. I called his name — no response.

When our son gets upset, he’ll run down the path that leads to a cove by the bay. I decided to check.

“Michael! Michael! Where are you?”

I arrived at the shore as I called out.

No answer.

“Michael, where are you?”

“I’m over here, Daddy.” I could barely hear his voice.

I couldn’t see him anywhere, so I called out again.

Then I saw him a few hundred feet up the shoreline.

“Michael, come here now!”

He ran farther away and then stopped.

I saw the swiftly rising tide out of the corner of my eye.

My heart raced. My son did not know the danger he was in. He needed to come back now, or we would have to swim.

“Get over here now!” I called out.

“I can’t,” Michael said.

“What do you mean you can’t?”

“I’m stuck.”

I almost didn’t believe him, but as I hurried toward him, I saw that he certainly was stuck. He had decided to walk through the eelgrass and stepped into the loose, black, muddy area of the cove. He was waist deep in the muck and couldn’t get himself out.

I grabbed his hands and began to pull, but he was really stuck. My footing gave way, and I slipped into the muddy water.

Now we were both stuck!

Then I realized that being next to him gave me more leverage. I could push him up and out.

I heard the sucking sound as the mud relinquished him. Success; my boy was free.

Once he was out and on semi-firm land, I told him to stay right there and not take off again. My arms ached, but somehow I managed to get myself out. My daily weightlifting had paid off.

We were covered from chest to feet with thick, black, smelly saltwater cove mud.

As we walked the shoreline toward the path, I scolded him. My voice echoed throughout the cove and woods. I looked back at the spot where we had been stuck. The eelgrass was already under two feet of water.

We walked home, rinsed off with the garden hose and went in the house. I hugged him tight as I helped him pull a clean, dry shirt over his wet head.

It horrifies me to this day to think that if my wife Cherrilynn had not obeyed her impulse to call and check on Michael, I would never have known that our son was down there alone.

~Michael Bisbano

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