One June morning last year my 11-year-old son, Adam, sat down to breakfast, a grin on his face as bright as the sun coming up over the hills. "Hey, Dad," he said, "let's go get some catfish for supper!" Adam knew I'd been itching to use the aluminum boat I'd bought three weeks earlier, and he was trying to lift my spirits. I'd been sick for a while and couldn't work. With only my disability check each month, I was worried about taking care of the family. I'd been praying hard, but I wasn't sure God was close enough to hear me.
"Can we go, Dad?" Adam asked, "Can we?" I didn't even have a motor or a license yet, but his excitement was contagious. "It's a deal," I said.
I went into town for the license right after breakfast, and later my friend Tim put an old outboard motor on my new 12-foot boat. "Got room for a third?" Tim asked. We gassed up the engine, and loaded the boat with two propane lanterns, our tackle boxes, and two rods for each of us. Adam was in charge of packing some snacks and coffee, and plenty of night crawlers and chicken livers for bait. It was sprinkling when we headed for Lake Cumberland at about three o'clock in the afternoon.
Tim and I have fished that lake most of our lives, and Adam has gone with us since he was two. One of the largest man-made lakes in the world, Cumberland cuts through seven Kentucky counties like a lightning bolt. It's famous for catfish, striped bass and walleye. We pushed off into a branch north of Monticello and began motoring upstream. Adam had already buckled on his life jacket, but Tim and I realized we'd left ours behind. We shrugged. We usually just plunked 'em down in the boat anyway. The rain had stopped, and it was getting hot, so I stripped off the top of my rubber wet suit.
It was great being out, but we fished till dark without so much as a nibble. "Let's go after the big ones," Tim suggested. So we headed back downstream toward the Lee's Ford area of the lake. The water there is nearly 100 feet deep, just the way the cats and stripers like it.
We pulled into a cove and tied ropes from both bow and stern to branches. I turned off the motor and listened to the dying whir of its propeller. We baited our hooks and threw out our lines. Adam stared over the edge of the boat into the quiet lake. "What do you think's down there besides fish?" he asked. "Monsters, maybe," I said chuckling.
But no creature of any kind pulled at our lines. "The only thing biting out here is mosquitoes," said Tim. About 8:30 p.m. we decided to call it quits. We untied the ropes, and the boat floated in the gentle current toward the middle of the lake. Swinging the lantern over so I could see better, I steadied the motor with my left hand and pulled the cord with my right. Pop! The motor sputtered. I looked down. Fire shot out of the housing. Before I could react, the motor blew up!
The blast knocked me into Adam. Flames shot up all around us. "Kenny," Tim yelled, "your T-shirt's on fire!" I grabbed Adam and threw us both into the lake.
As soon as we hit the water, Adam slipped from my grasp. I couldn't see him in the darkness. "Adam!" I yelled. I'm a good swimmer, but my legs felt weak. I couldn't seem to stay afloat. I'll rest for just a second. I went under. No! Panicking, I clawed my way back to the surface, spitting out a mouthful of water. The rear of the boat was now an orange spray of flames against the night sky, and I spotted Adam swimming over to me. "Dad!" he called. I managed to grab hold of his life jacket. Together we swam back to the boat. "Here!" Tim shouted, reaching for us from the bow.
I thrust with my feet, struggling to keep my head above water. I lifted Adam's arms to the edge of the boat. I saw him grab on, but my strength was gone. I went under a second time, plunging into the black depths of the lake. I reached up, but the water dragged me toward the bottom. I couldn't fight it. God, are you with me?
Everything was quiet and dark as I sank. I felt as if I were being lulled into a restful sleep...
Abruptly I stopped sinking. Had I reached bottom already? My shoulders started throbbing. I looked to my left, then to my right. I felt long, powerful fingers reach down to my ribs; two enormous hands gripped my shoulders. The hands pulled me through the water. Up I went, rising like a balloon. Finally I broke the surface! The hands held me, my body suspended halfway out of the water, until I saw the boat.
"Kenny!" Tim called. "We're over here." Adam was hanging onto the side of the boat. "C'mon, Dad! You can do it!" I swam toward them and climbed onboard. The fire in back of the boat was burning hot. Then, as I draped my body over the middle seat, there was another blast. One of the lanterns exploded directly in front of me, throwing me back into the lake. This time I treaded swiftly with my legs and didn't go under. I grabbed the side of the boat next to Adam.
"We're gonna make it," Tim shouted, paddling with his hands. We were only 30 feet from shore. But the fire was spreading, the boat engulfed in flames. Adam and I let go of the side, and Tim jumped out. "I'm okay!" he said. He got himself onto the rocks, and Adam and I crawled out of the lake behind him. We turned to see the boat ablaze in the black water.
People on a cliff nearby heard us calling for help and phoned 911. We were later treated at the Wayne County emergency room and released. Tim, Adam and I had some aches and pains, but none of us was burned or seriously injured. There are some that say we lost an awful lot that night; a brand new boat, hundreds of dollars' worth of tackle and gear, even that old motor. But I found my life out there. I learned that God is always close by, even in the depths. How do I know for sure"? I still feel those strong hands pulling me up whenever my burdens threaten to drag me down.
