God and a Raging River

 

Week of June 10

 

It is June and time for our annual family reunion camping along the banks of the Raven Fork River.  Only this yearly outing with the family will change the course of my life.

 

On the drive from Florida to Cherokee, North Carolina my wife and I talk about the offer made by the pastor of our community church in Sarasota. He wants me to serve as Interim Children’s Director on a six-month trial basis. I have served the children’s ministry as a volunteer for several years while managing a restaurant for a national chain.

 

My heart is with the children but my head and my wife are saying it would be financially irresponsible to take an interim position for six months while a committee searches for a director. Besides, I would have to take a pay cut and with a wife and two children to support that would be fiscal stupidity.

 

We arrive at the campsite in a steady drizzle. Most of the families are gathered under a large tent fly. We join them for lunch. After the meal I decide to go fishing where I often do some of my best thinking.

 

 

The Raven Fork has eight-foot banks opposite the campground and is relatively shallow ranging in depth from calf deep to waist deep.

 

I put on waders and rain gear and proceed into the calm water. Most of the adults are playing cards under the tent fly while Pete, my brother-in-law, watches me fish from the bank.

I am so engrossed in fishing that I am oblivious to what is happening around me. The flow of the water has picked up and the river has been rising. The water suddenly changes color to a muddy brown and the depth where I am standing goes from waist deep to almost chest deep. This gets my attention and I sense the danger.

 I take a step toward the near bank, this is a big mistake. The river is deeper on this side and instantly my waders fill with water and drag me down like a sinker.

 

I am struggling to regain my footing and get to the surface. I'm in trouble and being propelled backwards by the rushing water.

 I I hit a boulder with such force that it pops me upright to the surface like a bobber. I stand there, breathing heavily and leaning forward to stay upright with the water pushing against my chest. I am unable to move. This is serious.

My brother-in-law is frantically yelling for the other men, who soon appear on the bank above me. They lower an inflated tube with a rope tied to it but it does not reach.

 

Next they throw the inner tube but it blows past me and is punctured somewhere downstream when it hits a sharp rock or pointed stump. Someone finds another piece of rope and ties it to the first rope. The men lower a now deflated tube tied on the longer rope. After a couple of attempts this one reaches me and I wrap the rope around my hand.

 

When the men pull on the rope I am immediately projected prone in the water and with the river pushing against me my rescuers are nearly pulled off the bank into the racing water.

 

It takes all the strength of those ten men and older boys to hold me against the current. Gradually they ease me to the bank, which is terraced with rocks held in place by a wire mesh. I am able to grab a tree growing out of the bank and I hold on while some men crawl gingerly down the bank and help me out of the water to safety.

 

Later standing on top of the embankment several of us watched logs, branches and other debris being propelled down river by the rushing water. A large log shot right over where I had been standing helpless against the river. That could have been fatal.

I learned firsthand the power of water and how fast things can change. I see now how people can be caught in flash floods, something I didn’t fully appreciate before.

 

Pete interrupts my musings. “Chris you have to see this,” he says holding the rope in his hands, “this is how close we came to losing you.”

 

What had been my lifeline is frayed so badly that the rope in one spot is down to a single strand that my brother-in-law proceeds to snap with his fingers.

 

On reflection, I think God was testing me that afternoon. I could easily have drowned if I hadn’t hit that rock, which stood me up providing time for others to help me in my distress. As I thought about my life ending in that river I asked myself, did I want to be just a restaurant manager or did I want to be a teacher of God’s children?

 

I decided to take the position of Interim Director of Children’s Ministry.

 

Chris Cahill,
Pittsfield,  Massachusetts