Proof The Bible Is True

I checked my ski boots and took a wary look at the gray, wintry sky. Dime-size snowflakes had been coming down for two days now to the tune of about three feet of fresh powder at Oregon’s Crater Lake National Park. Great for recreational skiers, but those of us on the park’s volunteer ski patrol had to be on alert. Weather like this could mean search-and-rescue operations—everything from lost skiers to trapped avalanche victims. The challenge, as always, was to reach people while they were still alive.

 

I felt at home in the park. I’d hiked here for 30 years, and was proud to be part of the ski patrol. We’re required to put in a minimum of three weekends a season, but I usually did eight to 10. Call it gratitude. In truth, I had no business being here at all. I’d been shot down over enemy territory while a helicopter gunner in Vietnam—twice. Worse, I drank and used drugs. Addiction took over my life. It poisoned my relationships. It had me helpless, completely at its mercy. As good as dead, really. Then, 14 years ago, I discovered something that changed everything. I’d been living clean and sober ever since, grateful for each new day of life, grateful as a prisoner on death row who had gotten a reprieve.

 

“Bill!” Randy, a park ranger and patroller, called. “Got a report of a Jeep parked in one of the extended-ski-trip areas. Belongs to a couple whose trip permit says they were going to ski around the lake. They should have been back two days ago.”

 

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