Sometimes we run out into the middle of a situation without realizing just where we're headed. That's how I found myself on the ledge damming the Rum River Tuesday evening during our family camping trip.
My husband and two older sons had gone fishing following supper. Our six-year-old son helped me tidy up the site before we joined the others. Along the mile hike, Noah carried his rod over his shoulder and recounted his morning fishing trip – taken exclusively with his dad – while Isaac, Aaron and I had rented kayaks.
About midday, we'd spotted Noah seated on the ledge nearest the shore swinging his legs, waving and hollering, "Hey! I caught a bullhead!" Avid-fisherman Aaron was envious of little brother's morning luck. And so, this evening excursion would be perfect to even the score.
When Noah and I arrived at the dam, he was determined to keep the lead. He scanned the scene, spotted Dad and the boys on the opposite side and proceeded to join them before I could utter: STOP!
I followed – believing I could save Noah if he stumbled. The 10-inch ledge looked wide enough. Halfway across, I lost my nerve. The water rushing through the lock... The three-foot drop to the river below... The DANGER sign with an image of a person spinning in the under current... all gripped me.
Without his knowing, Noah saved me. To combat my fear, I focused on his shoes. Silently, I prayed for his safety and for my own courage to keep step with his.
We made it. Dad lifted Noah up over the lock. I stayed on the ledge deciding: Should I hoist myself up and wonder how to get down or... go back alone? The older boys wanted to fish on the ledge. To them I confessed, "I've never felt this kind of fear. I can't go back alone. I need to follow someone."
To let my sons pass, I hoisted myself up over the lock. On this other bank, I explored the stony shore, took in the beautiful view, watched Isaac and Aaron chase elusive bass, saw Noah catch a sunfish and caught my husband emptying the bait box to announce, "That's it. There's nothing left. Time to go back and cool off."
"Right..." I thought. "Just let it NOT be in the river!"
Dad helped Noah across. Aaron grabbed his shoes and tackle box. And Isaac waited as I lowered myself onto the ledge. To let us all pass, a couple fisherwomen stepped off the ledge's high side into ankle-deep water. I thought, "Wow... that side isn't so dangerous."
Still fearful of the lower side, I kept my eyes on Isaac's shoes... step by step. Approaching the women, I said, "I'm not too keen on this balance beam stuff."
"You're doing great!" one said. As I stepped onto the rocky shore, I replied "Thanks! Now I'm doing even better."
Next time I find myself in the middle of a such situation, I'll know how to keep my head. And maybe... I'll even take off my shoes.
