God's help was where I was

Patricia L. Wilkin

Seashore vacations were fun for my sister and me. Our cottage was right on the beach, so we spent most of the time in our bathing suits, splashing in the waves and collecting shells.

One day when it was low tide I waded out to the sand bar. I waved to Barbara, who was making a sand castle on the shore. As I bent down to pick up a shell, something wide and flat scuttled across my foot. My foot began to hurt, so I waded back to the beach. When I came out of the water my big toe was bleeding, and that scared me.

Barbara let me lean on her as I limped to the cottage. By this time I was crying hard. Mother had gone visiting, but Daddy was there, and he tried to comfort me. The lady next door heard me crying and came to see what was the matter. She was a medical nurse. When she saw my foot, and I told her what had happened, she said a stingray (a big, flat fish with sharp poisonous spines on its long tail) had cut me and I could get very sick. She said she would call a doctor. Daddy was worried, so he told her to go ahead.

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