The Camping Trip

Growing up our family made annual camping pilgrimages to The Grand Coulee Dam.  The Gravseth clan loaded the camper for nine days of sun, sleeping bags, and boating.   Us kids woke up alongside family friends cozied in our dome tent and eating meals made on a camp stove. Evenings were spent around the campfire or playing cards. We wore our bathing suits so many days in a row, we couldn’t tell what was dirt and what was tan, the smell of sunscreen and sweat emanating from our group. 

One summer, one trip, one day stands out in particular. It was the August prior to my fifth grade year and the group had headed out to our usual cove on Banks Lake.  We had discovered a quiet spot in the state park where the water was calm and had very little traffic; perfect for loading and unloading passengers from the boat.  When the boat was full, the rest of us could stay and swim in the water near the beach.  It was our own private oasis.

While swimming this particular day, we found a sand bar in the water.  It went out roughly 300 feet keeping us walking out with the water only up to our knees.  Then at the end of the bar, the ground dropped down to about 7 or 8 feet deep.  Us big kids would run and drop off all day.  We made jokes of it with our parents and each other, laughing the whole time.  We were all strong swimmers and fearless. My younger brother, Jimmy, was roughly three years old at the time and mom insisted he wear water wings AND a life jacket.  He was so protected, you literally couldn’t hold him underwater. While we frolicked in our discovery, Jimmy played near by in the shallow water, in all of his air filled paraphernalia. 

As the end of the day approached, mom asked us to get out of the water to help clean up and head back to camp; we dragged our feet towards the beach.  Bringing up the rear of the group, pouting as I exited, in a moment I cannot explain, I felt an urge to turn around, to look back out towards the lake. Suddenly I saw two small hands pop up briefly out of the water near the drop off we had been playing on.  It took what seemed like a lifetime to register as I saw the same hands drop back into the water as quickly as they had come out.  In an effort to  leave, mom had removed Jimmy’s floaties and told him to stay out of the water.  Doing what little boys do, he returned to the water and everyone was too distracted with packing up to notice.  At his age it had not registered that the waters depth could change and suddenly become too deep for him. As he played in the shallow water he was taken by surprise finding himself in darkness as the lake engulfed him.  He was drowning. 

In the next moment my body responded and I ran towards the spot I had last seen movement and dove in to grab my struggling brother.  My heart raced.  It was just the two of us out there.  On shore the group was gathering loose articles and corralling kids.  I shouted for my mom; the gravity of the situation settling into my 9 year old body.  We finally made it to the beach, Jimmy still coughing from inhaling lake water.  At last I was able to get everyone’s attention and hand him off to a parent. 

I don’t often think about that day when I almost lost my brother. Our family went on to have many other camping and boating adventures. Since then nearly every summer I hear stories about children and adults who drown and it occurs to me how easily we could have been a statistic that year.  Jimmy recently turned 30 and like me has maintained a love of camping and the water.  When I do stop and remember that day, it is crystal clear as I can feel the warmth of the air and shudder in my body as I turned around and saw those two hands briefly crest the water.  I am confident it was the Holy Spirit telling me to turn around. I am so thankful our family did not experience tragedy that day as I fail to notice all the other near death experiences I have likely been witness to. It is only God who gives life and only Him who takes it away.  I am thankful for His timing and His guard over each of us.