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| And it was so stinking hot. So, like many other participants, I took to the river. I had my Bible, in case something came to me, and a pen and paper, in case I needed to write that something down. And, since one could not wade in the shallow water with flip-flops on, I carried my sandals as well. Five steps into the water I was in trouble. The water was deliciously cool, but I could barely manage to stay upright between juggling my things and negotiating the sandy bottom. So lesson one was—chuck the things. I found a sand bar to place my perishables and prayed the Kansas wind wouldn’t fly off with them. That done, I sighed with the anticipation of cold water on my feet and sheer relaxation for my soul (and of course the word of the Lord so I’d have something to share!) The water was great. So cool and refreshing. But the wading itself was . . .less than perfect. It was hard work sloshing through sand that sank your ankles deep into granular muck every time you took a step. I was in a true dilemma. If I wanted to avoid the difficult walk in the river, I had to walk on the sand bar (and basically was stranded). There the sand was hot and I had to step delicately among fish skeletons and greenish foam. Walking in the river was much cooler—and harder, all at the same time. I stepped into the middle of the stream, sank past my ankles, thought briefly of quicksand and said a little prayer. “God, this stinks“ said God, “sometimes it does. Sometimes the cool water comes with the—what was the word you called it?” Continued... |
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