I’ll Never Let Go of Your Hand

There are few places in the world I love more than Yosemite, especially the high country of Tuolumne Meadows. My family typically made four trips a year (winter, spring, summer, fall) to Yosemite. The summer visit almost always included a trip up the steep road to the high country until we arrived at the little general store near the tent cabins where we lodged. I can confirm the temperature at night in a tent cabin is cold with only wood siding forming partial walls and thick white canvas providing shelter overhead. Dad would start a fire in the old pot belly stove as we tucked ourselves into our metal-framed twin beds between the freezing stiff cotton sheets. During the day we hiked through the lush, pristine alpine meadows. When we reached the Tuolumne River as it ambled through the meadow, we grabbed our fishing poles in a futile attempt to catch our dinner.

Nearby is beautiful Tenaya Lake, an alpine lake sitting in a basin created by glacial activity eons ago. As my brother, Dean, and I practiced skimming rocks across the surface of the lake, Mom prepared a picnic lunch to enjoy while sitting in the sand on the red plaid blanket my Dad always carried in the car.

On one excursion we decided to hike from the high country to the valley floor of Yosemite. The trail is located near Tenaya lake and involves an 11.9 mile trek through rugged terrain. As Dad, Dean, and I began our descent of nearly 4500 feet, Mom drove back down the mountain to meet us four and a half hours later near Mirror Lake.

We followed the trail with great determination and I’m sure Dad wondered why he agreed to take two rambunctious kids with him. At ages 10 and 12 we had a lot of energy but not much sense. With the trail not clearly marked we took a wrong turn somewhere along the way … we were lost. Dad had been a Eagle Scout as a kid so his survival skills were strong, however, I’m pretty sure he never expected to get lost with two kids in tow. We found a small stream and began to follow it down the mountain as we examined the tracks of deer and other small game along the way. This worked well until we reached the edge of a cliff with nowhere to go. By this time we had hiked almost 4 hours and the late afternoon sun slowly gave way to a chilly breeze as the shadows began to fall. It looked like we might be spending a very cold night lost in the high country wilderness.

When you are lost on a mountain it’s a good idea to talk with God. The Bible says it well. “I look up to the mountains; does my strength come from mountains? No, my strength comes from God, who made heaven, and earth, and mountains.” – Psalm 121:1-2 (MSG)

The three of us stood in a tight little circle holding hands and asking God for guidance. Dad began looking through the trees and up the mountain. Suddenly, he saw a brief flash of light. Continuing to stare, he saw another one and another one. High above, cars on the road were reflecting the sun as if tasked with directing us out of the wilderness. Dad again grabbed our hands and we began to climb up the steep hill.

Two dusty and tired children, along with one weary dad, finally stumbled over the guard rail at the side of the mountain road. A red pickup truck approached, slowing down to see what was happening. After a brief explanation from my Dad, the kind man driving it offered to give us a ride to the valley. As we climbed in the bed of the truck we noticed “Fresno Rescue Mission” emblazoned on the driver’s door. God had clearly heard our prayer and sent help. By the time we traveled the steep road down into the valley to meet up with a worried Mom, it was nearly dark. She had just made her way to talk with a ranger to report her missing family. To everyone’s relief we were safe.

My earthly Dad held tightly to his children to lead us to safety much like God does for His people. Psalm 41:10 reminds us, “Don’t be afraid, for I am with you. Don’t be discouraged, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you. I will hold you up with my victorious right hand.” Christian writer and musician Don Francisco got it right when he wrote the words, “No matter what may happen child, I’ll never let go of your hand.”