I stood out of breathe, drenched from head to toe, knee deep in swampy river water. As sweat dripped from my face I pulled with every ounce of strength left in my body. Grunting beneath the weight of the trailer my wet hands began to lose their grip.
An hour earlier Kim and I were driving children to the put in spot on the Kaskaskia River. Unable to get to our usual drop off because of rain, we ventured as far down the path as possible. When the water advanced Kim continued driving. Because she was operating the twelve passenger van, while I was in a Caravan, I didn’t follow, let’s just say my instinct was van + water = not so hot.
When all of the kiddos were on the River I waited for Kim to back the van and trailer. Here is my thought process: she got it in there, she can get it out. Mind you, when you are on your way to the river you drive through the woods on a small path. This diminutive alleyway is surrounded by monstrous trees. You are eaten by mosquitoes like it’s your job if you dare to venture from your vehicle. Kim was off the path.
Needless to say, Kim got stuck. In the process of backing up she somehow managed to sink both the van AND the trailer into the mud. After some profanity on her end and some nasty thoughts about how I was going to kill her later, we decided to attempt to excavate.
As I got out of my van and walked about 100 yards, I was knee deep, covered in mosquitoes, and staring at my best friend with eyes that said what’s your play now, Sherlock. We detached the trailer from the van, thinking it would be easier to unearth the beasts separately. The car wouldn’t budge, neutral became an enemy, and the big “D” that once stood for “drive” now shared a mocking resemblance to the words “dumb” and “disaster”. Fifteen minutes later, we decided to move to the trailer. Before we relocated, however, we decided to call camp and inform them that the 12 passenger van and the 8 rack canoe trailer were stuck in the mud an hour away. That went over really well. My boss was pissed and not very pleasant, there was already an epidemic going on around camp. Five counselors got sick as well as a dozen campers, people were sent home and all parents had to be called. We had already cleaned three cabins as well as massive amounts of vomit that morning.
When the phone call was ended Kim was about to cry. She was volunteering for a week, none of this was supposed to happen. We glanced at each other. “What are we going to do,” she asked. My response was immediate, “Get this bitch out”. For forty-five minutes we tugged, pushed, and strained with barely a degree of movement. I could feel every muscle in my body strain against the weight. I was tired and wet. 98 degrees felt like a million and the mosquito bites on my legs and arms were swelling. Kim looked up at me. Her back was to a tree and her legs and arms were pushing with all of her body weight. I screamed I was pulling so hard. Tears and sweat rolled down my face and my teeth were clenched so tightly I feared they would shatter.
“Last try,” she grunted. Just as we were about to give up a white ford truck pulled down the road. He stopped when he noticed the path was flooded. As we walked towards him I tried to picture how pathetic I must look. My face and hat were covered in mud. I was drenched in sweat, water, and mosquitoes, slapping my legs every two seconds in an attempt to mask the pain of more blood sucking monsters. I was so hot I could barely comprehend what was happening.
The next thing I knew he had towed us out, van and trailer. Relief slid over my body like a cool breeze after a hot shower. When the van was secured I called my boss to tell him he didn’t need to drive an hour to come get us. When the man had helped us, he left. Kim offered to take him out for a beer and attempted to obtain his address, but he wanted nothing of us. He came, helped us, and left.
I was ready to surrender. I had done all I could do, I had nothing left to give. This man had everything. He had the chains that fit perfectly onto our van, he had the power to pull our vehicle from the mud, he had the kindness to help two girls who clearly had no idea what they were doing. He had no obligation to us.
We made it to the pick-up point about ten minutes before the canoers finished their trip. None of the campers knew what happened and the two counselors that had been on the river didn’t find out until after we had returned to camp (because our boss had told other staff members).
We made it.
But we didn’t do so by ourselves.
“Put your trust in the light while you have it, so that you may become sons of light.’ When he had finished speaking, Jesus left and hid himself from them.” John 12:6
Sometimes He just astounds me with his greatness.
