My husband and I took our three daughters and three of their friends on a 7-mile canoe trip while on vacation this summer. Our family had been on this adventure a few years ago, and we were all excited to paddle down the crystal-clear waters, stopping to swim and picnic long the way. We didn’t think much about the weather for the day since it was a gorgeous morning. We knew there was a chance of an afternoon shower, but we didn’t concern ourselves over it. We split our group into three boats, and set out on a trip none of us will ever forget.
Several hours and about five miles into our trip, thick clouds began to gather overhead. We could hear thunder in the distance, and though I didn’t mention it to anyone, I started getting a little nervous. Early in the trip, we’d been paddling around other people, but suddenly, we found ourselves paddling alone. We were surrounded by woods, and it was still two miles until we reached our pick-up spot. With each clap of thunder that moved closer, I encouraged everyone to paddle faster knowing we had no shelter.
We happened upon two men in another canoe, and my husband and I were immediately suspicious of their behavior. I called to my oldest daughter and her friend and told them to paddle close to me. After a couple of brief comments with my husband, the men began to paddle alongside us much to our dismay. I heard them asking the oldest girls how old they were. That, along with my concern over the weather, caused me to shift into over-protective-mother mode.
The skies grew dark and angry, and rain began to fall. What started out as sprinkling quickly turned to a downpour. Thunder boomed, and my eyes were peeled for lightning. I started looking for spots along the bank where we might could take shelter if it started lightning. Nothing. I yelled to my husband, asking if he thought we should try to get off the water until the storm passed. No, keep paddling! He had the same unspoken fear I did: what if we stopped and those two men stopped with us?
I tried not to panic, but I was worried about the safety of my own children and felt completely irresponsible for having other people’s children caught in such a precarious situation.
The rain started pounding us so hard I was sure there’d be hail any moment. Our faces and eyes stung from the beating we were taking. We paddled furiously until the two men fell behind. Just when all our arms were beginning to ache from paddling, we finally reached our pick-up location, at which point we were all relieved to step onto dry land.
Once we were in the car and drying our soaked bodies, we joked about what a great story we had to tell.
I never expected to paddle my way through a storm. After all, I know better. I would never put my children or anyone else’s in harm’s way. I love my own too much, and I take seriously the responsibility of caring for other people’s children. Though we had good intentions for a fun day, we found ourselves in a risky situation.
Isn’t that how life works sometimes? You have good intentions. You know there are risks with any choice, and still, sometimes you make unwise and unhealthy choices. Even though you don’t intend to hurt others or put them in harm’s way, they’re caught up in the storm with you. And once you’re in the storm, you sometimes realize there’s no shelter and the only way out is through.
There are those who will stand at the end, who didn’t weather the storm with you, and question your judgment. They won’t care about your intent. They’ll only see the consequences of your choice, and say you got what you deserved. They will say you should’ve known better. Pay them no attention. They don’t know your journey. Focus on finding your way out of the storm. One day, you’ll have a story to tell.
