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2/ A boy follows his dad’s example.

— My Dad only had us up in those cabins for a few summers, and then work situations changed and our holidays were altered. However, the following year Harold and I were back and we came armed. One weapon we developed a certain skill with was the hand-made inner tube sling-shot.
— This story comes when I remember a time when my brother Harold (3 years older than me) and I went to spend some time during our summer vacations with Herman (our Dad), our brothers Ron and Al, and I’m not sure of the names of the other workers there in Dad’s portable sawmill camp in the Williams Lake area.
— Oh, I have many wonderful and even powerful memories from those weeks with my brother. I was about 8-9, and Harold would have been 11-12 when for two summers we were able to spend weeks from each summer holiday at Dad’s mill camps. Some of the details are sort of blurred by time, but I do remember that our jobs in the camp were to help with the dishes and other things, like peeling potatoes to get them simmering on the woodstove for supper and to sweep and sort of clean the cabin. We also did things like getting the lanterns ready for the nights there. I mention this as one time I was responsible for almost burning down our cabin, but Harold kept his head and saved the day, by quickly extinguishing the ‘white gas fire’ which I had accidentally started on the cabin’s table. Just a glimpse of the stories we have to tell.
— The story I want to tell you about today, revolves around the free time we enjoyed there in the bush. And we had a lot of free time after our kitchen duties.
— The two summers we spent there were at the peak of the rabbit cycles for the area, and as such we would spend a lot of time hunting them. It was truly crazy, some of the hunts we had chasing them through the bush, just Harold and me. At times with our homemade sling-shots, sometimes with our equally hand-made efforts of bows-and-arrows. However, we actually were able to even take our Dad’s 22’s out as well. I think we didn’t use them all the time because there was a limited amount of ammunition, and we liked to try out our own ‘devices’. I even remember setting snares (shudder, shudder). That’s a survival skill that could certainly help in case I ever get lost in the bush though.
— Back to the hunt, for there was a time when Harold had Dad’s repeater, and I had his single-shot Cooey 22, and we were out after rabbit. For some reason which I don’t recall, we started to chase a rabbit through the bush. Harold being older and wiser, kept hold of his rifle, I however set mine down against an old stump and ran off chasing that rabbit through the thick brush. We chased him here, and there, and then somewhere else. Finally, out of breath and grinning from ear to ear, we stopped. And Harold decided that it was time to collect ourselves and head back. He asked me, “Where’s your rifle?”
— That was a very good question. As we searched for the stump that I had put the gun against, panic started to raise up, and fear gripped this nine-year-old’s heart. For no matter how we tried to retrace our steps, it proved completely useless. So I prayed. Oh yes, Herman and Elsie raised their children to know how to pray when we needed help. So I feared, I searched, and I prayed. I feared having to go back to Dad and tell him I had lost his rifle. I searched with rising panic, as I started to realize the impossibility of retracing our steps, considering how much bush we had gone zig-zagging through. I prayed, begging the Lord to forgive my stupidity and to help us find our Dad’s rifle.
— Once again ‘Harold the wise’ insisted we had to give up the search and go back to camp. And he was right, it was late, and we could not stay any longer. Tomorrow we could resume the search. So head down, I followed him back to the cabins.
— When we got back to camp, I found every excuse to delay going in to face my Dad. I thought, “He’s going to be so angry and disappointed, and I’m probably going to get such a lickin’.”
— I don’t know what transpired inside that cabin, but eventually, Dad came out to see why I wasn’t going in. So I had to face up to him and admit that I had lost his rifle, which I did, looking down at my feet all the while, as if they could somehow help me. When I didn’t hear an angry response, or feel the grasp of those massive great hands, I looked up and saw my Dad with a little smile on his face, and he put a gentle hand on my shoulder, then with a chuckle said, “That’s okay, I did something like that when I was your age. You come in and have some supper.
— That was it… Unless you’ve been in a situation like that, you cannot comprehend the peace and relief that rescued this tormented nine-year-old. Oh, and now let me tell you the amazing rest of the story, for it is a testimony to our faithful Lord God, and how he hears our prayers…
— Even though for the rest of that week I continued to search, I never did find that rifle, however… Sometime later, before Christmas, when we had returned to school in Kamloops, Dad came home from his weeks in camp, and he came to tell me that he had a surprise. He then brought out that single-shot Cooey and handed it to me. The rabbits had taken some revenge on it and the critters had chewed up the stock a bit, but there it was, back in my hands. And I stood amazed that God had not forgotten, and He had answered my prayers. You see as the tree-fallers went through the bush dropping trees for the sawmill, one of them had come upon my 22, still leaning up against that stump. I never had a chance to thank him, but I can tell you, to this day I am still thanking the Lord. And that special day my faith in the power of prayer grew to a new level.

— Now I look back at this I see it relates to Isaiah 40:30-31 (CEV) Even young people get tired, then stumble and fall. But those who trust the LORD will find new strength. They will be strong like eagles soaring upward on wings; they will walk and run without getting tired.
— The return of that earthly object gave my faith a boost that certainly had me flying on those eagle’s wings.
— That rifle was given to my nephew many years ago and I hope he and his sons are as blessed as Dad and I were with the lessons we learned through the use, loss, and recovery of that earthly treasure. (KK)