Books > Hugs for Heroes > Excerpts

What are heroes thinking when they bravely risk all for someone in danger? They're thinking of the grave risk the person faces if they don't act. What are heroes not thinking when they perform that heroic deed? The possible risk to themselves.
That's not to say heroes act without awareness. It's just that in the minds of heroes, the possible risk to themselves doesn't measure up to the certain dire consequences for someone else if they don't act.
Not every risk heroes accept is monumental or life-threatening. Not everyone who risks is recognized as a hero, but they are. Risking a job to defend the unpopular truth, risking our vision of the future to accommodate the needs of a sick family member, risking our reputation by admitting a mistake someone else was blamed for -- these are the risks that mark the lives of everyday heroes.
What difficult decision are you facing today? What would you risk by doing the right thing?

Race of a Lifetime

Amy soaked up the late August sun as she sat atop her lifeguard post at the small public beach. The surf was up, and a solitary surfer worked the waves. Local schools were back in session, so most late-afternoon surfers wouldn't arrive for another hour. She breathed deeply, enjoying the soothing sounds of the ocean and the warm breeze.
Lifeguarding was the ideal job for Amy, who dreamed of becoming a champion swimmer. Her schedule at the beach worked well with her training regimen, and the additional on-duty time in the water helped build her strength and stamina.
As she casually watched the surfer, Amy daydreamed about her next meet and envisioned herself being the first to cross the finish line. She opened her cooler filled with ice and bottled water and pulled out a cold drink to quench her thirst. Amy took a long, slow gulp, savoring the refreshment, and wiped perspiration from her face with the corner of her beach towel.
Scanning the surf again, Amy became uneasy and shifted in her seat, straining for a clearer view. She saw the surfer's board but no longer saw the young man. "Where is he?" she said aloud as she reached nervously for her binoculars. Searching the water around the empty board, Amy saw nothing but waves.
She jumped up, grabbing the buoy rope and slinging it over her shoulder, and ran into the surf. She swam with long, powerful strokes toward the bobbing surfboard. When she reached her destination, she located the ankle rope and dove down, hoping to find the surfer still linked to his board.
Suddenly something in the murky surf bumped hard into her. As Amy spun around, horror flooded her right to the bone. The gray object that had hit her was a shark fin. As split seconds took on the feeling of time in slow motion, Amy saw the form of a teenaged boy just feet in front of her -- and in the jaws of the shark.
Amy surged to the surface, gasping for air. Then something took over. She gulped down as big a reserve of air as her lungs could hold and dove back toward the shark with ferocity. Terrified but determined to rescue the young man, Amy gathered all the force she could muster and delivered one powerful kick to the shark's snout.
Surprised more than hurt, the shark opened its mouth just long enough for Amy to snatch the surfer and lunge frantically back toward the surface. She draped the boy's body over the buoy and swam furiously toward the shore.
With every kick stroke, Amy mentally braced herself for an attack from behind and fought off panic. She expected razor-sharp teeth to clamp down on her legs, sending shockwaves of searing pain through her body, at any second.
Desperation drove her to swim harder than she ever had in the heat of competition. This race wasn't against other swimmers but against the odds that she and her nearly drowned surfer would survive. The finish line wasn't a painted bar at the bottom of the pool but the safety of shore. Amy gasped for breath and reached deep within herself for the strength to push the dead weight of her victim through the surging tide.
Amy was so focused that the feeling of her foot touching sand startled her. Why didn't the shark attack? she wondered as she stood up quickly and dragged the limp surfer through the final twenty-five yards of ocean toward the beach. He's lifeless, her thoughts raced. He could already be dead. Where is the shark?
Once on the sand, Amy immediately began CPR. Pounding the victim's chest and breathing methodically into his mouth, Amy counted and worked hard. As quickly and surely as the aching pain of fatigue swept through her muscles, a sense of hopelessness invaded her mind as the wet, clammy body under her refused to offer any sign of life.
Still, Amy's adrenaline and dogged determination wouldn't let her give up. Finally, the surfer coughed -- at first sporadically and then spasmodically. His whole body shook. Water and vomit gushed out of his mouth. Amy lifted him up to a sitting position and pounded his back, trying to help him cough up the rest of the salt water. He trembled as his shallow gasps grew into deep, wrenching gulps of life-giving air.
Once the victim's airway was clear, Amy laid him back down on the sand to survey his injuries. As she glanced down at his legs, a scream escaped her before she could help it. In her frantic attempt to resuscitate her patient, Amy hadn't noticed the damage done to his lower right leg by the shark's jaws.
The surfer's foot lay separately from his leg, attached only by a solitary ligament. His skin and bone had been severed. He was losing blood fast and was in shock. Amy wrapped her beach towel around his upper calf for a makeshift tourniquet, and the blood stopped gushing. The surfer was still breathing, but she could barely feel his pulse, and he was unconscious.
Amy ran to her lifeguard stand to call for an ambulance. Then she grabbed her ice chest, threw out the excess water, and returned to the victim. Amy grimaced as she took firm hold of the foot and gave one forceful yank. The ligament snapped, and she packed the severed foot in the ice and closed the cooler.
Shuddering with horror at the gruesomeness of her task, Amy heard sirens and turned to see the ambulance approaching. Paramedics rushed to the scene and checked the victim's vital signs. They administered oxygen and carried the surfer on a stretcher into the waiting emergency vehicle. It all happened so quickly that Amy hardly uttered anything but a few bits of vital information to the medical team.
When the ambulance pulled away, two police officers arrived to check on Amy and gather information for their report. Dazed, exhausted, and overwhelmed, Amy finally allowed herself to react. She began to tremble, and she sat down quickly, feeling her knees start to give out beneath her. In the aftermath of trauma, tears now flowed freely down her cheeks.
A small band of surfers just arriving at the beach also gathered around as Amy explained to the officers what had happened. Amy wrapped herself in a beach towel loaned to her by one of the surfers and shivered in disbelief as she told of her terrifying encounter with the shark.
When she had given police the information they needed, Amy persuaded them to take her to the hospital to follow up on the shark-attack victim. When they arrived, she rushed into the emergency-room waiting area just as the receptionist was telling other officers that the boy had been rushed to surgery. A team of surgeons was being hastily assembled for the tedious and difficult task of trying to successfully reattach the foot.
Several hours later, the surgery was completed. Now only time would tell whether the operation had been a success. Amy learned that the boy's name was Tom and that he was only sixteen. Throughout his recovery, Amy kept in touch and frequently visited him in the hospital, encouraging him to hope for the best and focus on recovery.
Six weeks later, Amy was honored in a ceremony outside the small city hall of her seaside village. She listened appreciatively as local dignitaries, police, rescue workers, and doctors praised her rescue effort. Amy's courage, quick thinking, and swift action had saved Tom's life and his foot.
Amy's favorite part of the ceremony, however, was when she looked across the parking lot and spotted Tom, who was recovering well and, miraculously, was on his way to regaining full use of his right foot. Their eyes met -- surfer and lifeguard, victim and rescuer. Tom's expression spoke a gratitude that only a person who had been given a second chance at life could communicate and that only a hero could understand. Amy could ask for no better reward.