Lost in the Swamp

“Yuck!” My right foot squelched as I pulled it up out of the mud and tried to take another step. “Yucky, yucky, yucky!” Then I swatted at the mosquitoes buzzing thickly around us.

Carolyn wiped the sweat out of her eyes, leaving a muddy streak on her cheek. “Dang it!” She looked around the swampy field.  “Where are we anyway? Which way is your house?”

The day had started out so great. Carolyn was my church friend. She lived too far away for us to walk or bike to each other’s houses. In fact, at that time in the Minneapolis area there were very few Mormons, none in my neighborhood. One family lived in the same town, but far enough away that we always drove to their house. And they just had very young children.

But yesterday our moms had agreed that Carolyn could come home from church with us. She would sleep over and we could spend the whole summer Monday together. We had great plans.

Right after breakfast of Cheerios and toast, we set off to explore. Mom didn’t mind. After all we were almost 12 and what trouble could we get into in our quiet little suburb? She went down to the basement to sew while we took off outside.

We started by heading down the gully toward the woods. Though houses were built all around, there were big empty spaces that had not been built up yet. I played in the woods with the neighbor kids quite a bit—we had even built a kind of tree house there with scrap lumber and fallen branches, tied together with vines.

The other kids weren’t there that morning, so Carolyn and I played around there for a while, saying we were Robin Hood and Maid Marian and then Tarzan and Jane. Sure, we were getting a little old for playing pretend—but Carolyn and I liked to think that we were creating stories, like authors, not just playing around like kids.

“Let’s see what’s on the other side of woods, Carolyn!”

“Yeah! Maybe we can ambush a rich caravan!” She liked the Robin Hood storyline best.

“Or maybe a man-eating tiger!” I was going for the Tarzan storyline.

We headed off through the woods, using some big sticks to knock aside the thick underbrush. Now we were explorers, hacking our way through the Amazonian jungles. The branches scratched our legs and arms, but that couldn’t slow us down.

At the edge of the woods was a great open field of tall grass, and a tempting ridge on the far side—very much like the ridge we had scrambled down to get to the woods.

“Ah!” Carolyn pointed to the distant ridge. “Yonder lies the castle keep of the dread King John.”

She was back on Robin Hood. No matter. I took up the storyline. “Onward, my merry men! We will approach the castle and sneak in, disguised as wandering minstrels. Soon we will know John’s foul plans.”

So off we started across the field. The tall grass came to our waists, and we whacked our way through with our sticks. The ground began to be wet, and sometimes we had to make our way around big muddy puddles. We had to look down at the grass and our feet rather than at where we were going.

The ground became wetter and wetter, muddier and muddier. The mosquitoes were thick and sweat was running down my armpits. This was no field. It was a swamp.

That’s when we stopped and looked around, ankle deep in mud.

Carolyn shaded her eyes and scanned the horizon, turning slowly in a circle. “Where are we?” she asked again.

I looked all around too. I lived here, but I had never been out in this swamp. It looked the same everywhere I looked—high ridges all around the edges with woods at the bottom and the endless grassy, muddy swamp all around. We had been looking down at our feet and zig zagging all around and now I had no idea of where we had started.

“I don’t know.” I admitted. And I began to feel like neither a brave bandit nor an intrepid explorer. We were hot and muddy and mosquito-bitten and lost.

“I don’t know which way to go.”

“Me neither.” Carolyn sighed. She was looking at her muddy feet and scratching a mosquito bite on her arm.

“What shall we do?” I asked, not so much asking Carolyn as myself, as the universe. I had no idea.

Then Carolyn looked up. She stopped scratching and actually smiled, like, no problem. I’ve got this.

“We need to pray,” she said, very matter-of-fact.

I was startled. I was a church-going girl and came from a church-going family. I said my prayers every night without fail, and as a family we always said a blessing on the food. But somehow I had never thought of prayer as a practical way out of a problem.

Carolyn was confident though. And, looking at her, the heavy scared feeling in my chest began to lighten. Yeah. We would pray!

So there in the middle of that endless muddy field, we two girls folded our arms and prayed. Carolyn spoke the words. I pleaded in my heart. “Please help us, Father. Please. I don’t know how to get home.”

“Amen.” Carolyn lifted her head and looked around again, this time alert and confident. I did too.

“That way!” She pointed with certainty. I looked in the direction she pointed, and felt a warm calmness inside me.

“Yeah.” I said. “Yeah. Let’s go that way.” 

We set off in that direction, noting a tall pine tree at the top of the ridge and using that as our guide. We had to pull our feet out of the sucking mud at each step, but we kept our eyes on the that pine tree and kept moving. We forgot about our story line, but we felt cheerful somehow, squelching along toward that tree. Gradually the ground became firmer.

We reached the wooded edge of the swamp and, with one last look at the tall pine on top of the ridge, we scrambled through the wood and up the hillside.

At the top of the hill, under the tall pine tree, we found smooth green grass and a white house. Someone’s back yard. The lady of the house was outside, watering her daisies. We thought it might as well be heaven. We were saved.

Then she turned around. It was Sister King, our Sunday School teacher! The one other Mormon in the whole town! How did we find her house? How did we end up in this particular backyard? How did we find the one person in the whole town area who knew and loved us? How could this possibly happen?

Sister King dropped the hose and stared. Soon she would hose us down, give us cool drinks and drive us home. But now she hurried to us. “Beth, Carolyn! What in the world! What happened to you?”

We looked up at her, all muddy, scratched, and bitten.  We glanced at each other and grinned.

“Sister King,” I said, “We have just experienced a miracle!”

And we had.