William Young: The Shack

“Really?” Sarah prompted. “What does she speak on?”

“She helps people think through their relationship with God in the face of their own death,” Mack answered.

“I’d love to hear more about that,” encouraged Jesse, as he stirred up the fire with a stick, causing it to bloom with renewed vigor.

Mack hesitated. As much as he felt unusually at ease with these two, he didn’t really know them and the conversation had gotten a little deeper than he was comfortable with. He searched quickly for a short answer to Jesse’s interest.

“ Nan ’s a lot better at that than I am. I guess she thinks about God differently than most folks. She even calls him Papa because of the closeness of their relationship, if that makes sense.”

“Of course it does,” exclaimed Sarah as Jesse nodded. “Is that a family thing, referring to God as Papa?”

“No,” said Mack, laughing. “The kids have picked it up some, but I’m not comfortable with it. It just seems a little too familiar for me. Anyway, Nan has a wonderful father, so I think it’s just easier for her.”

It had slipped out, and Mack inwardly shuddered, hoping no one had noticed, but Jesse was looking right at him. “Your dad wasn’t too wonderful?” he asked gently.

“Yah.” Mack paused. “I guess you could say he was not too wonderful. He died when I was just a kid, of natural causes.” Mack laughed, but the sound was empty. He looked at the two. “He drank himself to death.”

“We’re so sorry,” Sarah said for both of them, and Mack could sense that she meant it.

“Well,” he said, forcing another laugh, “life is hard sometimes, but I have a lot to be thankful for.”

An awkward silence followed as Mack wondered what it was about these two that seemed to penetrate his defenses so easily. He was rescued seconds later by a flurry of children as they poured out of the trailer and into their midst. Much to Kate’s glee, she and Emmy had caught Josh and Amber holding hands in the dark, and now she wanted the whole world to know. By this time, Josh was so smitten that he was willing to put up with any harassment and took what she dished out in stride. He couldn’t have wiped the silly grin off his face even if he had tried.

Both Madisons hugged Mack and his children good night, with Sarah giving him an especially tender squeeze before she left. Then, hand-in-hand with Amber and Emmy, they headed off into the darkness toward the Ducette site. Mack watched them until he could no longer hear their night whispers and the swaying of their flashlight disappeared from sight. He smiled to himself and turned to herd his own brood in the direction of their sleeping bags.

Prayers were said all around, followed by good night kisses and giggles from Kate in low conversation with her older brother, who would occasionally burst out in a harsh whisper so everyone could hear, “Cut it out Kate. Grrr… I mean it, you are such a brat!” and eventually, silence.

Mack packed up what he could by the light of the lanterns and soon decided to leave the rest till daylight. They weren’t planning to leave until early afternoon anyway. He brewed his final nightly cup of coffee and sat sipping it in front of the fire that had burned itself down to a flickering mass of red-hot coals. It was so easy to get lost inside such a bed of glowing undulating embers. He was alone, yet not alone. Wasn’t that a line from the Bruce Cockburn song “Rumors of Glory”? He wasn’t sure, but if he remembered he would look it up when he got home.

As he sat mesmerized by the fire and wrapped in its warmth, he prayed, mostly prayers of thanksgiving. He had been given so much. Blessed was probably the right word. He was content, at rest, and full of peace. Mack did not know it then, but within twenty-four hours his prayers would change, drastically.

The next morning, though sunny and warm, didn’t start off so well. Mack rose early to surprise the kids with a wonderful breakfast, but burned two fingers while trying to free flapjacks that had stuck to the griddle. In response to the searing pain, he knocked over the stove and griddle and dropped the bowl of pancake batter onto the sandy ground. The kids, startled awake by the clatter and under-the-breath expletives, had stuck their heads out of the tent trailer to see what all the commotion was about. They began to giggle as soon as they grasped the situation, but one “Hey, it’s not funny!” from Mack and they ducked back into the safety of the tent, still tittering from their hideout while they watched through the mesh windows.

So breakfast, instead of the feast Mack had intended, was cold cereal with half-and-half-since the last of the milk had gone into the pancake batter. Mack spent the next hour trying to organize the site with two fingers stuck in a glass of ice water, which had to be refreshed frequently with chips that Josh broke off the ice block with the back side of a spoon. Word must have gotten out because Sarah Madison showed up with burn first aid, and within minutes of having his fingers slathered in the whitish liquid, he felt the sting recede.

About that time Josh and Kate, having completed their ordered chores, showed up to ask if they could go out in the Ducette’s canoe one last time; promising to wear life jackets. After the initial mandatory no and the required amount of begging from the kids, especially Kate, Mack finally gave in, reminding them once again of the rules of canoe safety and conduct. He wasn’t too concerned. Their campsite was only a stone’s throw from the lake, and they promised to stay close in to shore. Mack would be able to keep an eye on them while he continued packing up the camp.

Missy was busy at the table, coloring in the book from Multnomah Falls. “She’s just too cute,” Mack thought, glancing in her direction as he worked to clean up the mess he had made earlier. She was dressed in the only clean thing she had left, a little red sundress with embroidered wildflowers, a Joseph purchase from their first day’s trip into town.

About fifteen minutes later, Mack looked up when he heard a familiar voice calling, “Daddy!” from the direction of the lake. It was Kate, and she and her brother were paddling like pros out on the water. Both were obediently wearing their life jackets and he waved at them.

It is remarkable how a seemingly insignificant action or event can change entire lives. Kate, lifting her paddle to wave back in response, lost her balance and tipped the canoe. There was a frozen look of terror on her face as almost in silence and slow motion it rolled over. Josh frantically leaned to try and balance, but it was too late and he disappeared from sight in the midst of the splash. Mack was already headed for the water’s edge, not intending to go in, but to be near when they bobbed up. Kate was up first, sputtering and crying, but there was no sign of Josh. Then suddenly, an eruption of water and legs, and Mack knew instantly that something was terribly wrong.

To his amazement, all the instincts he had honed as a teenage lifeguard came roaring back. In a matter of seconds he hit the water, shoes and shirt off. He didn’t even notice the icy shock as he began racing the fifty feet out toward the overturned canoe, ignoring for the moment the terrified sobbing of his daughter. She was safe. His primary focus was Josh.

Taking a deep breath, he dove under. The water, in spite of all the churning, was still fairly clear, with visibility about three feet. He found Josh quickly and also discovered why he was in trouble. One of the straps on his life vest had gotten tangled in the canoe webbing. Try as he might, he couldn’t yank it free either, so he tried to signal Josh to push himself deeper inside the canoe, where breathable air was trapped. But the poor boy was panicking, straining against the strap that was keeping him caught under the canoe rim and under water.