In early 1993 I walked the Milford Treck in New Zealand with thirty others. The second day, above the timberline, just at the mountain pass, a gale struck us. The 60 m.p.h. wind knocked two of us to the ground. The rock-carved footpaths were flowing with icy streams of water. When I stepped up out of the trail, though, our guide noticed this despite the scant visibility through the dense rain, and in a friendly way insisted that I be sure to stay within the paths. I obeyed, but didn't understand why he was so insistent we continue over the pass.
After a quick lunch and warm-up in the pass but, the guides announced changed plans for descent. An emergency route down would bypass areas where avalanches tend to occur in storms. We descended rapidly, crossing many rivers and streams, each one swollen with swift-moving white water. As I continued over stream after stream, I recognized that everything was divinely loved, guided, and cared for. The uplift I felt is hard to describe. I felt I was witnessing a wonderful plan of God's harmonious protection for us. All of us got down the mountain safely.
The next day's newspaper indicated that the rain had closed the road from the mountain to the town where we'd spent the night. I went outside in the sun to see the shining brilliance and calm of Milford Sound. After breakfast, a few of the trekkers videotaped from their chartered helicopter a clear view of the magnificent valley beneath the mountain pass we'd crossed the day before. They showed the video later that evening. At the point where the guide had asked me to stay within the carved path, I saw that, to the left and to the right of the path, it was no more than a stone's throw to the edges of the mountain. I was struck again by God's complete care for us, all along the way.
