During that first attempt at paddling down the Big Muddy River I encountered numerous obstacles. As the day wore on, I began to wear out. Paddling, portaging the kayak, getting stuck in mud and quicksand, having my kayak take on water so that I had to pull it to shore and empty it, over and over again made me dreadfully tired. It was frustrating. My wife and son had both told me I was foolish to attempt this when I set out. I hated it as it came to look more and more as though they were right. But I still had hope.
At different times I could hear the sound of traffic from the highway that was my destination. It sounded as though it could only be a short distance away. I was pretty sure I had traveled three miles downriver already. I also knew that as the crow flies, the distance from my starting point to my goal was only about two and one half miles. Even as the sun set and twilight was beginning I hoped to somehow retrieve victory from the jaws of defeat.
I called Karen on my cell phone and asked her to drive to the bridge on the highway where she was supposed to pick me up when I was finished. It took her only five or ten minutes to get there. Mean while, I continued to paddle down the river. She called back when she got to the bridge. Now it was time for my master stroke to save the day. I asked her to honk the horn of her car, confident that it would be near enough that I could either paddle or hike to my final destination.
Listening and hearing nothing but crickets chirping, frogs croaking, and vehicles on the highway, I asked when she was going to start honking. The answer that she had already honked her car horn several long blasts was heartbreaking (for me). That did it. I was not going to make it. I paddled to shore, pulled the kayak up, and lifted it over the bank to high ground where it would be safe. It was pitch dark now and I was going to have to hike out of the woods in nearly total darkness.
On about the third step from abandoning ship for the last time that night I stepped into a stump hole that had formed when a tree had become uprooted and fallen into the river some time long ago. When I fell I went straight down about three feet, hurting my leg and dropping my cell phone. I nearly panicked as I reached down to the bottom of the hole trying to find the phone. After about two or three minutes ( it seemed like a lifetime) I felt what I hoped was my phone. I pushed a button and a tiny bit of light appeared. It was my phone!
Karen was still on the other end. My mind was racing for some way to find my way safely home. At that moment an opening appeared in the clouds and I saw a nearly full moon high in the sky on the other side of the river. I asked Karen if she could see the moon in the sky and if she did, was it in front of her. She had to get out of the car and look. She only saw the moon for a moment before it was covered by clouds, but it was off to the left side of the road more than it was in front of her. I had hoped that the moon was nearly due west of both of us. But from what Karen saw, it was more southwest. That meant that the river where I abandoned ship was flowing either west or southwest rather than north to south. I would have to guess at how to walk out. Home, and town, were due east but I was not sure what bearing due east would be (no compass on primitive phone).
After saying good-bye to Karen I started hiking out. I wanted to get away from the river because of stump holes and the possibility of falling over the bank and injuring myself. I guessed as to what direction east was, but quickly became disoriented because of the thick brush. I seriously considered trying to find a place to bed down for the night and then hike out in the morning. Once in a great while I could see the moon, but it was mostly total darkness. Wearing shorts and water shoes, I could feel my legs getting cut and scratched by briars, weeds, and underbrush. Finally, after about thirty minutes I stumbled onto a dirt road. I called home and told my son that I was hiking down a dirt road and would call back when it finally came out. As I went on I discovered the road was an unmarked oilfield road. That meant I was probably in the middle of nowhere. After a two mile hike I came to a public road and realized where I was. I called home again and a few minutes later my son pulled up and drove me home.
I arrived at home a tired, bruised, bloody, mess. It was several weeks before my legs were healed up. My arms healed a little more quickly. My first attempt at paddling down the river was filled with lessons learned the hard way. The adventure itself was a failure. I had set a goal. I tried to reach that goal. I failed. I didn't even come close. I came home without my kayak and no idea how to get it back. All of us have to deal with failure in life. Sometimes you can blame it on others, or on bad circumstances. What is hard is when the reason for failure is totally and completely your own fault. That is what I had experienced.
I planned poorly. I was unprepared. I ignored warnings from others. Even when I knew I was in trouble I continued to keep going on the same course. There were times I could have turned back, but I wanted to do it my way.
Everyone experiences this on the River of Life. The Bible tells us "All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God (Romans 3.23)." This means that each one of us has failed in life. You are not going to make it to your destination. Your destination for life should be to live in the presence of God. To abide with God will bring life, joy, peace, and every good thing. Some scholars would say your destination is to know and enjoy God. But because of choosing different destinations and setting off on our own in spite of warnings, experience, knowledge, and troubles, we have failed.
The good news is that there is a remedy for our failure. We'll talk about it next time on Reading the River.
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