Testimony by Ashley Brubaker
Pennsylvania, USA
Posted 11/ 12 /05
Please note: Although this was originally written for one of my school assignments, it is a testimony that I would like to share regarding a time when the Lord, in His infinite grace, brought forth a miracle and delivered my parent–in the midst of trouble. This experience, written from my mother’s point of view, took place in 1979, when my sister was quite young, and I had not yet been born. May it please the Lord to use this for His glory and the blessing of His dear saints. Amen!
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I stood at the edge of the muddy embankment, looking at the fast, rough moving water, and thought this would be easy; we shouldn’t have to paddle too much. I pulled my coat tighter to keep out the blustery March winds.
Excitedly, I put on my life-vest and shuffled through the knee-deep snow to where my husband stood. It was the first time I had ever canoed Pine Creek Gorge, although Gene had canoed “Pennsylvania’s Grand Canyon” many times. He was an experienced canoeist, and I felt safe with him in control.
“The water’s four feet above normal,” he said. “Although it’s flooded, it should be a good run today.” He looked at me with a twinkle in his eyes, “You won’t mind the chunks of ice floating down the creek, will you?
“No!” I smiled back at him. If he can tolerate this damp, raw weather, so-can-I. I clenched my teeth in determination. I was starting to wonder if this annual canoe trip “tradition” was worth it, when I could be at home in the nice, warm house, playing a game with our daughter.
Gene placed the last of our bags in the canoe and secured them with a bungee cord. “Okay, looks like we’re all set, Donna.”
We settled into our canoe and pushed off from the muddy bank. The sky darkened into a deep sapphire, as storm clouds rolled in from the west, bringing a shower of flurries.
Sitting in the canoe, I felt like a polar bear with my huge winter coat on. I tried to turn around and see if Gene had his life-vest on, but I couldn’t move. I yelled to him, but it was no use. The sound of the water was deafening.
A half hour later, the pace of the creek quickened. Advancing rapids crashed furiously against the canoe. I started to feel a little uneasy. I couldn’t swim, and the fear of falling in the treacherous water overwhelmed me. Why did I let Gene talk me into this?
Just before us, a raft from another group crashed into a cresting wave, causing it to stand on end and flip sideways.
The crescendoing waves sent our canoe crashing up and down, forcing icy water into the canoe. I struggled to reach the water with my paddle. We were being thrust in mid-air, then plunged beneath the rapids.
Gushes of white water splashed in the canoe; we were more than half underwater. “Paddle over to the bank!” Gene shouted, straining to be heard above the turbulence.
In a rush, the canoe capsized, hurling us into the frigid water.
I clung to the overturned canoe as tightly as I could. I was thankful to see Gene holding onto the other end—with his life vest on.
The accelerating current pulled us downstream, over tumblers of white water and thundering waves. I fought for a secure grip, but the water was so cold and our canoe kept revolving.
I couldn’t hold on any longer; my hands were too numb. I looked up into the sky. “This is it, Lord—I can’t hang on any longer.”
Suddenly, the undercurrent forced us against the bank. Gene, exhaustedly, motioned for me to turn around. Someone was reaching out their hand to me. Stunned, I grabbed hold, and our Angel of Mercy pulled us out of the perilous waters.
The man in the wetsuit disappeared before we had a chance to thank him. We might have gotten hypothermia, had we been in the water any longer.
Gene dragged the canoe up slightly and secured it to a tree. Dazed, we sat on the mountainside for a few moments, trying to catch our breath. “Are you all right?” Gene asked me with concern.
“I t-h-i-n-k so,” I said, my lips quivering. “A-r-e you?”
“I’m all right,” he replied, walking over to the canoe, “but we need to get out of these wet clothes.” He lifted out a duffle bag of spare clothes, dripping with water. “That’s if they’re not all wet!”
He pulled out a pair of dry clothes and I smiled weakly, thankful for Gene’s foresight into double bagging everything.
I was cold and tired, and couldn’t wait to get into something dry—just the sound of the roaring water was unnerving. I couldn’t wait to go home.
Even after we had changed into our nice warm clothes, I was shivering with cold. I hugged my knees, hoping to get warm. “T-o-o bad we don’t have m-a-t-c-h-e-s to—”
“Hey, look what I found!” Gene exclaimed, holding up a thermos filled with beef stew, left over from lunch.
Ten minutes later, my chattering stopped. “That sure warmed me up,” I said, savoring the remaining soup.
“It was good.” Gene sighed comfortably. “Now,” he paused, “what do we want to do to get out of here? We can either get back into the canoe—”
“I’m not getting back into that thing!” I shook my head in horror.
“Or…” Gene continued, “we can crossover the face of this cliff and hike out of the canyon.”
My jaw dropped. I looked upward. A thousand foot cliff loomed above us. I groaned inwardly. “You’ve got to be kidding me!” I looked at Gene, “Couldn’t a helicopter come pick us up?”
“I don’t think so, dear!” He rolled his eyes. “That ledge is only about four inches wide.” He sounded grave. “One wrong move and we’ll fall right into the raging creek. We have to very careful, but I think we can do it. And the quicker we start, the sooner we can be home.”
As much as that cliff frightened me, the thought of the canoe scared me even more. I swallowed hard. There was no other option. “Okay,” I said, resignedly, “let’s go.”
Gene made sure the canoe and everything in it was secure, in hopes of retrieving it later. “Here,” he said, throwing me a life-vest, “put this on.”
Gene started wrapping a rope around my waist and must have seen the worried look on my face. “It’s just a precaution.” He tried to reassure me as he tied the other end to himself.
I took a deep breath. Lord, thank you for helping us this far. Please see us safely through the rest of this ordeal.
Cautiously, I stepped forward, putting one foot in front of the other along the narrow, icy ledge. I was afraid to look down. Water thundered just a couple feet below us—a terrifying memory.
With every step I took, I searched for possible rocks, hand holds, or underbrush, to steady myself on—something that wasn’t covered with ice or snow. Another step further and rocks were slipping from under me. I felt the rope tighten around my waist and I breathed a sigh of relief.
“You okay? Gene shouted from behind.
“Yeah!”
After what seemed like hours, we finally made it across the cliff, and into the steep rugged forest.
I was exhausted. “Can’t we rest?”
Gene shook his head. “We have to keep moving. We only have three hours of daylight left.”
Wearily, we started hiking down an icy ridge laden with snowy pines. The weather was growing colder by the minute. Could we make it before dark? After a mile or so of walking through snow and ice, we came upon a footbridge, suspended about ten feet above the rampant creek. I looked at Gene in dismay.
“You know,” he began, “it would be a lot easier to cross here and walk on the level railroad track, than to walk along the icy ridge of the creek.”
I was skeptical of the bridge’s safety and reluctant to cross, but Gene was right. It would be easier.
The bridge swayed as we walked to the other side. I clung tight to the hand rail. I didn’t dare look down at the crashing rapids below. Ten minutes later, we were safely across.
“See that wasn’t so bad.” Gene smiled at me. “It’ll be straight walking from now on.”
I looked at the path before us, covered with several feet of snow, and smiled—with relief. Anything would be easier, than what we’d already been through.
Several hours later we neared a familiar open area. “Honey!” I shouted, “We made it! We made it!” I repeated over and over again with joy. I ran into my husband’s arms. “Thank you, Lord!” I whispered, with a smile. Tears of joy and exhaustion swept over me, as the weight of the day’s events finally sunk in.
“Oh, it feels good to sit down in the nice, warm car,” I said, contentedly.
“It sure does,” Gene yawned. “Let’s go home.”
We didn’t find out until later, that we had just been through Class IV rapids, much to our amazement, and that most rivers increase in difficulty by one to three grades when they flood.
Gene and I will always remember that day how the Lord spared our lives for a special reason, and that He was right there with us—in the midst of trouble.
