On a Dark and Stormy Night

 

On a Dark and Stormy Night

The first time was probably about 55 years ago.  My best friend, Pete and I used to pack our Boy Scout canvas backpacks with about 50 pounds of gear, including enough canned goods for a family of five.  The only reason that we could survive with so little was that we were intent on ‘living off of the land”.  We grabbed fishing poles and Pete’s two-person pup tent, jumped on our trusty bikes, and peddled out to Welch’s woods west of town for a couple days of adventure.

The tent was canvas, weighed about ten pounds, and it had no floor.  It did have a screen front and a canvas flap in the front that closed with three ties – top, middle and bottom.  That was tight enough to keep out at least half of the mosquitos.

Usually, we had the woods to ourselves, but very early one morning we discovered that for that trip we were sharing.  I woke to Pete shaking me.  “What’s that?” he asked.  I listened hard.  It sounded like something very large.  Before I had an answer, the front of our little tent began shaking furiously.  The ties loosened and then separated, and a huge head thrust itself in with us for a look around.  It was a Holstein cow.  She sniffed us a bit, at her own risk I might add, and then pulled back out.  We heard her walking away. 

We both scooted down to the front end and pulled back the flaps to discover that we were in the middle of about a dozen heifers.  As we rousted ourselves up and out they seemed more irritated than curious, as they decided to leave our little grassy point for some quieter grass another fifty yards down the river bank.   

The second time came about 15 years or so later.  I was already married and had two children.  Michelle and I were on a family camping trip to Franklin Lake with good friends Paul and Mary Jane.  It had been a great week, but as we sat around the campfire on the last evening, we were accompanied by rumbling thunder that steadily sounded louder and closer.  I got up and checked the ties on the tarp that I had pulled over the roof of our cabin tent just for a little extra water proofing.

Paul watched me, and then when I returned to the fire and sat down in my chair again he bolstered his own confidence.  He and MaryJane had their three-person pup tent pitched about twenty feet away from ours.  “I bought that tent when I was in college and Mary Jane and I were just dating.  He explained that they lived about 70 miles apart, so when the weather was nice enough, he pitched his little tent in a wayside so that he could stay with her as late as possible and not have to drive all the way home when he was tired.  “I spent a lot of rainy nights in that tent – dry as a bone.  I never needed a tarp over my tent to stay dry.  Nope, she never leaked a drop.”

The storm kept growing nearer, but it was a slow mover.  We enjoyed our campfire right up unto bedtime.  Then we stored everything for the night and said our “good nights”.

The storm did eventually catch up to us.  At first, I thought it was a burst of wind, but it proved to be the rain letting loose.  There was lots of lightning flashes and deep, rumbling thunder.  It was the kind of thunder that you could feel shake the ground.  Thankfully, there was no wind, just that pounding torrential rain. 

I switched on my flashlight to check the tent.  We were all snug and dry.  About thirty minutes into the rain, I suddenly woke to hear someone hurrying across the campsite.  I heard the top flap covering the screen of our tent being unzipped.  I switched my flashlight back on.  It was Paul.  Just that little dash from his tent to ours had him looking a bit like a wet muskrat.  He stuck just his head into our tent.  A raindrop balanced on the tip of his nose.  “Can Mary Jane come in with you?  Our tent is leaking badly!”  “Of course she can.  What about you?”  “I’m just asking for Mary Jane.”  Chivalry may have been a bit drowned, but it was still alive, and as usual, a bit silly.  “Both of you grab your stuff and come on in.  We’ve got plenty of room.”

While they were on the way, Michelle and I pulled the boys’ air mattresses around to make room.  We had some extra wool blankets that we weren’t using to make a dry warm layer for our unexpected guests.  Fifteen minutes of shuffling and everyone was re-settled.  The tent was, shall we say, cozy, but everyone had enough room to stretch out.  The rain finally ended an hour or so later.

We’ve had a lot of fun together over the years.  Our children (4 apiece for us) have grown and are mostly married and on their own.  But even after more than forty years, any time we are together for significant time, it seems inevitable that this is the story that we will laugh about the hardest once again.  There is something about a shared hardship that binds more tightly than nothing but happy memories.  In leaning on each other you discover how much you need each other; how much you really care for each other.

Many probably wonder why Jesus insists that we each must take up our cross and follow Him.  Why can’t it be just happy?  I think it is so we experience for ourselves that He will never leave us, that He always walks with us, that He always lives within us.  We need Him and He wants us.  With Him it is deeper than friendship; it is communion.

His Peace <><

Deacon Dan

Photo by naraa .in.ub on Unsplash