It was spring, and the ice on the river was just breaking up along the shore. The boy, about eleven years old, kept asking his father if he could go fishing as the salmon were expected to start their yearly run up the river from Lake Superior. But his father knew it was dangerous to fish near the icy shore, where there was still waist-deep snow along the riverside. So, he would not give permission for his son to go.

But the boy was persistent. As the days and then weeks passed, he kept asking, “Now can I go fishing?” Finally, the father said yes, but he gave strict instructions: He would drive the boy to the river, near a bridge on the county road just a short distance from his work. The boy was to stay in that place, and at four o’clock when the father got off work, he would come pick him up.

So, the boy went fishing. The river was open and running fast with the rapid snow melt flowing down to the lake. Once the boy thought he had a bite, but it was only a snag.  He lost his best and only lure. At four o’clock, cold and discouraged, he was ready to go home. But his father had not come. He thought maybe his father had forgotten him. So, he walked the few miles back into town.

When he got home, his mother asked where his father was.  He didn’t know. As time passed and his father was more and more late getting home, the boy and his mother began to worry.  She asked, “Why did you walk home?” He explained that his father had not come at four as agreed on.  His mother grew increasingly worried for her husband who, she told the boy, must be out there looking for him along the riverbank. If he saw anything moving in the river, he may jump in to rescue what he would be thinking was his son. The mother and son prayed that the father would come home.

It grew dark, and the boy and his mother were still standing in the back of the house looking out the window toward the driveway. At last, the father’s truck pulled up! When the father came through the door and saw his son, he stopped.  He looked at his son, bowed his head, and cried, thanking God that his son was safe.

He did not yell or chastise his son for disobeying him, as the boy had expected. He was just thankful that his prayers had been answered. 

This story is not just a product of this writer’s imagination. I was that boy. Often, I have thought about how my father walked the length of the river to the lake, snow up to his waist looking for me. I learned of the love of my father that night. And he taught me, as no other experience could, of the love of God my heavenly father.

My dad risked his life for me, but God gave His Son to die for us so we can live our lives free from sin and more abundantly than we could have ever dared to dream. John 3:16 says, “For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.” May we always appreciate all that He has done for us.

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