Some years ago, on a hot summer day in south Florida, a little boy decided to go for a swim in the cold swimming hole behind his house. In a hurry to dive into the cool water, he did not realize an alligator was swimming towards the shore. His mother in the house, looking out of the window, saw the two as they got closer and closer together. In fear, she ran towards the water, yelling to the son as loudly as she could. It was too late. The alligator reached him. From the dock, the mother grabbed her little boy by the arms just as the alligator got his legs. That began an incredible tug of war between the two. The alligator was much stronger than the mother, but the mother would not let go. A farmer happened to drive by, heard her screams, ran from his truck, and shot the alligator. Amazingly, after weeks and weeks in the hospital, the little boy survived. His leg were extremely scarred by the animal's attack, and on his arms were scratches   from mothers' fingernails where she had tried to hang on to the son she loved. The newspaper reporter who interviewed the boy asked if he would show him his scars. The boy lifted his pant legs . And then, he proudly said to the reporter: "But look at my arms. I have great scars on my arms, too. I have them because my mom would not let go." You and I can identify with   that little boy. We have scars, too. No, not from alligator, or anything quite so dramatic . But the scars of a painful past. Some of those scares are ugly and have caused us deep regret. But some wounds, my friend, are because someone has refused to let go. In your struggle, maybe someone has been there holding on to you. Upon seeing the alligator getting close to her boy, the mother   _   .
dived into the cool water at once was too afraid to move shouted a warning to her boy got ready to fight the crocodile