The Not so Lazy River Part 1

It was a sister weekend with four women who hadn’t all been together in over a year. I must warn you that us sisters get a little crazy when we are together. On this occasion we were in Portland and decided that a day on the river sounded just the thing for a sister weekend in July. So we headed out to a tributary of the Columbia River, loaded up our food in a cooler to float alongside and headed downstream. However, we were not prepared for what awaited us. You may be thinking, “Oh no, they hit rapids.” No, that would be a cool adventure. What we encountered was terrible….duh, duh, duh… planning. We wore completely inappropriate footwear, didn’t plan for how we were going to get back to our car, how long it would take to get down the river and had the most awful floating devices for this type of river.

As we floated down the river, we were fine for a while, but the season’s low water flow had rendered the previously full river a little on the low side. It wasn’t long before our bottoms were dragging in the sand while we clung to the floaties that were being wrenched from our hands by the lower, but faster moving water. As we tried to stand up and navigate the river’s alternating sandy and slippery rocks, in flip flops of all things, you could hear four grown gals screeching and yelling over one another in an attempt to help each other while simultaneously trying to help ourselves. If we had been prepared, we could have walked back up to the car at the first sign of trouble, but we didn’t know how far down the river we were. As there were several people who had gone on before us, we were hoping one of them could give us a ride, so we decided to try and get down the river faster to catch up with them.

As we went along, it seemed to get better for a time and then we hit a long patch of low water. The water was moving fast, we were slipping all over the place and our lazy river trip was slowly going downhill. We couldn’t decide what to do next because as far as the eye could see downstream, the way was rocky. What we did see in our immediate view was what looked like a small incline that led up a bank to the road. This was mistake number two. Our flip flops were woefully wet and traction free, so on our way up the incline we were slipping and sliding, gear in hand up the sandy bank. Halfway up, we looked around and noticed we were near a blackberry bush full to the brim with blackberries. We happily munched on our find, glad to take a break until I made the clever decision to take off my flip flops to get better traction up the hill. Not living in Portland, I didn’t realize that blackberry bushes have thorns and that those thorns fall off and get covered by sandy slope as four girls in flip flops try to haul themselves up the hill. I dug my foot into the sand and boy did I get something to grip. Yes, for my trouble, I received several large thorns imbedded in my right foot.

We could have turned around and went back down the river before this point, but now I was bleeding and could barely walk. My youngest sister had also twisted her ankle the day before and was unable to walk down the river, so we kept heading up. Finally at the top of the embankment, we noticed a large, “No Trespassing” sign tacked to a tree. We had climbed the cliff only to land ourselves in someone’s private backyard. I am not a particularly brave person, so the thought of being trapped in Portland where there could be crazy people with guns didn’t appeal to me. We skirted around the edge of the gated property looking for a way out. Luckily, the owners either didn’t see us or opened the gate to set us vermin free.

We had made it to “freedom” on the side of the road. We still didn’t know how far a walk it would be back to the car and two of us were out of commission. Sister number one and sister number three bravely decided they were fit enough to make the two mile walk back to the car. Both are amazingly strong and know a bit of self defense, so they felt prepared to walk back to the car in flip flops and bathing suits, while sister number four and I sat on the side of the small road in our bathing suits with all the gear. What happened next was relayed to me by sister number three who only made it one mile to the car before her weird flip flops made her unable to walk anymore. She was left on the side of the road to wait while my oldest sister bravely soldiered on.

Sister number one was the last one standing, but she was starting to worry about the rest of us littering the side of the road in only our bathing suits. So she decided to jog the rest of the way in flip flops and a bathing suit. She was so worried in fact, that she didn’t notice that her feet were rubbed raw by her flip flops and were bleeding as well. She said her only thought was, “I have to save my sisters!” That should tell you a little something about her personality. She finally did make it back and picked up the rest of us along the way and now we have this incredible story to tell you about our lazy river adventure.

What I learned about this adventure taught me a little something about life…the Christian life to be more precise. I wonder how often I complained about the troubles I encountered in my walk with Christ that were direct results of my own actions. In the past, I know I complained A LOT. When I look back during those times, it often resembles my not so lazy river adventure.

Stay tuned for part 2....