Raising A Soul Surfer (22 page)

Life in the Hamilton household was anything but back to normal. Or, I should say, we were forced to make some adjustments around the “new” normal.

We soon encountered unforeseen things that were challenging for someone with one arm, but Bethany was already showing that remarkable ability to adapt that has amazed so many people. I replaced her closet coat hangers with hooks—lots and lots of hooks—to hang her clothes on. At the hospital, a therapist taught Bethany to tie her shoes with one hand, but we found it easier to just tie them loosely enough for her to slip on. Bethany seldom wore anything but sandals or the typical “rubba slippahs” popular across Hawaii.

I tried to do things to make it easier for her to navigate around the house. I bought chairs for our dining room table that were lightweight and easy to move, and I bought funnels to help her pour water or her almond milk. There were so many things you take for granted, so many tasks you do without thinking about. Just pouring liquid becomes a trial when you can’t steady the cup with the other hand. Sometimes it was hard
for me to watch, but I focused on the question, “What can I do to help her?”

Trial and error was our new way of life. Things that had taken mere seconds to accomplish now took minutes. And how do you gracefully put toothpaste on the brush with one hand?

Then there were the things that Bethany would no longer get to use or enjoy. She had been learning to play worship songs on the guitar. I took the guitar out of her room with a strange feeling in my heart. I set it next to my keyboard and wondered if she might like piano lessons instead.

As Thanksgiving Day drew nearer, the question of Bethany surfing again cropped up. And Bethany’s youth group started showing up again. The day before Thanksgiving, the trade winds switched. A westerly wind combined with a rising swell that set off a few lesser-known surf spots.

The phone rang. It was for Bethany. The beach break called Rock Quarry was as good as it gets, did she want to come?

You should have seen the way her eyes glowed at the news.

Noah in particular knew what it meant. The lure of great waves was working on his sister. He knew how badly she wanted to try surfing again. Noah had worked hard on an agreement with the television show
Inside Edition
that if Bethany ever tried to go out and surf again, he’d get them an interview and exclusive video in exchange for a prosthetic arm for her.

Noah was adamant. If Bethany went to the beach with her friends, she was NOT to surf.

The beach was packed with North Shore surfers, the Irons brothers, Holt, Alana, Sarah and all the rest of the Hanalei surf team. Sitting on the beach, just watching the perfect surf peel across the sand, was too much for Bethany. Excitement burned in her heart. Sarah saw it, and so did Holt.

“You can use one of my boards,” he said.

Bethany turned to Sarah. “I’m going to pretend that you tried to stop me.”

“Wait, I’m going with you!” said Sarah.

Officially, “nothing” happened. But I can tell you that Bethany went up and down the beach, begging everyone not to take a picture of her; otherwise, she might not get her prosthetic arm. Not one person lifted a camera, but people on the beach were crying. Tim and Noah got there just in time to film her first ride.

The next day, Thanksgiving, with intense anticipation, I watched as Bethany went out surfing for the first time. Tom brought her my long board to use, which was heavier and more stable than a regular short board. As she waxed up her board and wrestled with the leash, Tom offered to push her into the waves like he had when she was little, but Bethany rebuffed him.

“No, Dad, I have to do it myself.”

Her initial attempts at catching a wave were painful to watch. Our hearts felt heavy as lead. Catching waves with one arm is difficult; but pushing off a board that’s sliding down a wave as you try to stand up is much more so. The few times Bethany was able to get to her feet showed how much she’d have to relearn about balance with one arm missing. Bethany, who had been such a strong surfer just a few weeks before, struggled and flailed like a beginner.

“Put your hand in the center of the board,” Tom shouted over the noise of the surf. “You won’t dig the rail into the water that way.”

Bethany paddled back out, tenaciously trying again and again. All of a sudden, something seemed to click. She got up and found the balance point. Her naturally fluid style came back, and she surfed the wave all the way to the beach.

The beach erupted with cheers, and every surfer in the lineup started hooting and calling out with excitement. Pros and tourists
alike were caught up in the moment. Tom went wild, barely able to contain the joy that coursed through him. Noah and Timmy were whooping and screaming. And, of course, the cameras clicked and the video cameras rolled.

I joined in the elation. I was thrilled at what my daughter had accomplished, and I knew it wouldn’t be long before she would be back out having fun with her friends. But I couldn’t see competition in her future.

Tom made it his mission to help Bethany progress back to where she had been before the attack. Every morning, he and Bethany would get up and go to Pine Trees or Waikokos so that she could relearn the cadence of paddling, catching a wave, getting to her feet and balancing with one arm.

She advanced, but the slow progress was discouraging for Tom. One day, as Tom retells it, he was sitting under the palms at Pine Trees, having his own little pity party and grumbling at God because He’d allowed this to happen to Bethany. He was tired of watching her struggle to push through the surf while holding onto the board with one hand.

On that particular day, there was a riptide running hard, and one of the many tourists had accidentally gotten herself stuck in it. The lifeguards had already spotted her, and Tom watched as they quickly paddled out to the woman on a huge yellow rescue board with handles built onto it. The woman grabbed hold of a handle as the lifeguards effortlessly pulled her back to the beach.

Tom says it was almost like a cartoon when the light bulb appears over the character’s head.

“A handle! A handle in the middle of the board!”

Tom fished from his pocket a small black notebook he always carried with him and sketched the outline of a surfboard. Dead center, under the nose, he drew a handle. It was as if God
had stripped away Tom’s gloominess just to show him how trivial such problems are.

A custom board was made for Bethany. It had a handle exactly where Tom had sketched it.

And it worked.

Now Bethany could use one hand to dive deep under oncoming waves and get quickly out into the lineup.

As her performance and confidence increased, Tom kept patiently encouraging her. He knew that Bethany was determined to compete. I, on the other hand, while overjoyed at her progress, couldn’t envision that possibility in her future. But maybe, said a secret part of my heart, just maybe . . . 

Another change was taking place in the weeks after the shark attack. It was a change within Tom. Only he can tell you the exact time and place it happened, but what I do know was that Tom had been a spiritual bump on a log. He was defeated, immersed in self-pity, just going through the motions.

The breakthrough happened while at church. We had not stopped going, but one day, as we were singing a worship song, Tom realized that he was not singing, nor had he been singing at all since the attack.

Tom loves to sing. He has a great voice, and worshiping God with music is one of the key ways the Lord touches him, but he couldn’t find his voice. It had been stilled amid all the dark-winged confusion, hurt, anger and pain. Every single time that he’d asked, “Why her, God?” insurmountable pain assailed him. He was standing in an attitude of worship, but he was not worshiping.

Then God impressed upon his heart, “You’re going to worship Me in heaven some day so you need to worship Me on earth.”

At that moment, Tom realized that every second he’d been busy blaming God was a second he’d not been able to be truly thankful that we still had Bethany with us. He thanked God then, praised Him for the gift of Bethany’s life—and more than that, God impressed on his heart that He had greater things in store for our family, and for Bethany, than we could ever realize.

And then he sang.

When Tom had his big breakthrough, I was still struggling with my own. You see, while I believed in Bethany, I also was afraid that I’d see her fail. I wanted her to reach for all of her dreams, but I thought Tom was pushing her too hard and too fast. She’d been at the top, but that was then. I feared she’d be devastated by her disappointment. I feared her failure.

The National Scholastic Surfing Association (NSSA) regional surfing event was scheduled to take place in January 2004, on the Big Island of Hawaii. Bethany had been back in the water since Thanksgiving. It was barely three months since she had lost her arm in the shark attack; but she decided to enter the contest.

She told her dad before she told me. I would have told her it was too soon to compete. Tom, well, he apparently saw the fire in her eyes and thought she had a shot at it. Or more accurately, he thought she deserved a shot at it.

Everyone went to the Big Island but me. I couldn’t watch her fail; it would be more than I could take. Even staying home, I was very nervous for her. Surf contests are highly competitive events. The best surfers in the world are trying to outmaneuver and outsurf every other contestant. Boys’ or girls’ division, it didn’t matter, surf contests were seriously tough.

Tom and I had talked about the risks. If she totally failed, she would be demoralized or crushed. We talked about everything that might go wrong, but if you know Bethany, you know that she won’t quit, and she won’t deliver less than 100 percent.

Tom had to tell me how it went when they got back. No one but the director of the contest had known that she had entered, so when Bethany showed up on the sand in her contest jersey, everyone’s jaws dropped.

She didn’t catch as many waves as the other competitors in her heat, but the ones she did catch she tore up. She placed fifth in her entire age division, a big deal for any female surfer—but a massive achievement for a young woman who had just lost her arm.

The families who had brought their kids out to surf in the competition all clustered around Bethany when she came out of the water, their faces reflecting the radiant triumph on her face. Tom stood on the beach off to one side, joy and pride in his daughter filling him with an even deeper satisfaction now that he’d made peace with God.

That was when the legendary wave rider and professional surfing coach Ben Aipa walked up to him and said softly, “I tried to video Bethany’s first wave, but I was so overcome with emotion that I had to put the camera down. She’s got the will and the heart and desire to take this as far as she wants to go. I would consider it an honor if I could be her coach.”

Bethany was back.

The following year, she would not just place in the NSSA National Contest, she would win the Explorer Women’s Division!

You will be a crown of splendor in the Lord’s hand,
a royal diadem in the hand of your God
.
ISAIAH 62:3