Each morning for two weeks, I checked the news for updates on the Thai cave boys. It was a story that captured my attention — and my heart.
Twelve boys between the ages of 11-16 became trapped deep inside an intricate cave system, as they moved through the tunnels attempting to escape flooding from the monsoon rain.
They were a soccer team, who along with their25-year-old coach, rode their bikes to the cave, unaware they were heading into 9 days without communication with the world — not even sure they were being looked for — and 18 days away from their rescue.
I have tried to envision what it must have been like for them — on a muddy ledge above the water, surviving off birthday snacks they had brought with them, drinking dripping water from the cave walls, huddling close to stay warm. And… the darkness. Even with several dim torches, the darkness surely overwhelmed them. The conversations — the tears — the fears — all hard to imagine.
Then…Day 9 came. Two rescuers appeared before them. Their response, “Can we leave today?” And, “We’re hungry.”
The rescuer’s response, “We are coming.”
Can you imagine what it was like for the boys at that moment?
Once again, they were alone in the cave, but hope had been delivered.
Someone HAD been out there looking for them!
Someone WAS coming to get them!
They realized little of the magnitude of the efforts that stood between them and their rescue. The way they had entered the cave was now a muddy narrow passageway — filled with as much as 15 feet of water that was described as murky. Most of the boys could not swim.
But… they knew their rescuers had come once — and were coming back to get them.
Preparations were being made.
Prayers were being prayed.
Families were waiting at the entrance.
The end of the story was yet to come.
Day 18 came. The rescue was complete.
One rescuer said, “We only had a little hope… but it was enough.”
If you are a reader of my columns, you probably know where I am heading…
I was lost. I was trapped. I was hungry. I was thirsty. I was fearful. I was in darkness. The waters were murky. There seemed to be no way out. Was anyone even looking for me?
But… I realized little of the magnitude of what was going on behind the scenes that stood between me — and my rescue.
I only held a little hope — but it was enough.
My rescuer came — He saved me — and He’s coming back to get me.
The end of our story is yet to come.
But… God is with us.

Ann is a speaker and teacher. Contact her at annfarabee@gmail.com or annfarabee.com