Hope, Grit, and Providence

Sometimes, when things are going badly, you have to take a breath, say a prayer, and hope Someone is listening. Our nation is struggling, quick fixes unlikely, lightning strikes everywhere, good time for prayer. We all do what we can, but prayers get answered, often in the nick of time.

One hot summer day years ago, the family got a hankering for ice cream. A small shop lay around one island and down the lake, if we wished to take a little motorboat. We did.

As we started, I noticed – to the south – a little bundle of unassuming gray. It is the sort of thing that sneaks into a Maine sky on the sunniest days. I paid no mind. We grabbed jackets, were off.

The trip over was easy, ice creams secured, and now we were headed back. The sun leaned west, air heavy, and that little bundle, I suddenly noticed, now claimed more sky.

No matter, we would be home in a blink. No sooner were we on the lake, buzzing at full putter, when a rumble shook the sky – and us. Thunder follows lightening; somewhere it struck.

On a flat lake, rolling thunder, otherwise delightful, is not so delightful. A storm is unsettling. In a little boat with family, pushed by an engine with squirrel power, things feel uneasy.

Another rumble sounded, lightning caught my eye. I turned the boat west, deciding to pass inside the island, between shore and island, tight, rocky, but it got us closer to home.

No sooner was our little boat navigating an invisible channel, well offshore, than a bolt of lightning flashed right before us, and thunder crashed around us.

This put me in outer “stay calm” mode, but inside a goose got loose in my brain. My heart was working at the same tempo as the little engine, which had a mind of its own and now hit a rock.

We hit the rock so hard the engine quit, leaving under us a damaged prop. Still, I hoped to restart it, so began pulling madly – having total success only at flooding it. The engine would not start.

This might have been when the first conscious prayer was said, silently, but said all the same. Now that bundle of gray, that clever Trojan Horse, was a mountain of lead overhead, sun gone, me still pulling. Echoes of the engine and waves filling our ears, with thunder, more lightning.

As a parent, this is textbook “never do,” “never be there” stuff, the sort of thing you read about in newspapers when a tragedy occurs and shake your head, saying “Jeez, what were they thinking?” That is what, at this moment, I was thinking.

Now, realizing the engine was gone, prop busted, thing flooded, I rallied to the presence of a paddle. Thankfully, although wet, flashes regular, I dug that paddle into the lake with abandon.

Two thousand feet separated us now from the shoreline. My outer calm became sweat and agitation, unacknowledged panic. I paddled harder, soaked, storm descending. And I prayed.

The paddle now snapped. I grabbed the end floating in the water, used it like a kid’s shovel, but faster. Bang, flash. Shovel, shovel, shovel, shovel. Bang, flash. All the while, I prayed. 

Seldom in life should you pray, I think, for time to pass quickly. After all, time is precious, and unrecoverable if lost, but that is what we did. I wanted to be ashore intact, period.

What I knew, but hated to think about, was that you can only cover 2000 feet so fast with a half-paddle, rocking boat, scared family, and lead mountain on top of you. You just have to keep at it. 

That is what we did, with intent, hope, but also realism. You have to act with confidence, stay focused, believe, and not lose the far horizon – whether in a walnut shell or rocking nation.

However it happened, time did pass fast, and the paddle-half did its job, along with the prayers. God helps those who help themselves, has mercy on fathers who forget basics, how gray grows.

Stumbling ashore, rocks here and there, the family clambered out with incredible relief, when we hit that shoreline. Lightning lit the sky, thunder banged and rang, but we were under cover, finally ashore, no longer out on an open lake, adrift, in danger, helpless.

I am reminded, in this retelling, of the line from Germany’s Otto von Bismarck in the late 1800s. Reputedly, he stole it from a Frenchman. That the French and Germans agree on this is telling.

Said Bismarck: “There is a providence that protects idiots, drunkards, children, and …the United States of America.” Literally, that is what he said.

We do know, as that day made clear to me, God protects witless fathers and wonderful children. We may find out, once again, with enough prayers to get ashore, God also still protects “the United States of America.” I hope so, pray so, and hope others do the same, keeping one eye on the far horizon, knowing hope, grit, and Providence sometimes make the difference.

Robert Charles is a former Assistant Secretary of State under Colin Powell, former Reagan and Bush 41 White House staffer, attorney, and naval intelligence officer (USNR). He wrote “Narcotics and Terrorism” (2003), “Eagles and Evergreens” (2018), and is National Spokesman2 for AMAC.