Proof The Bible Is True

There were two rules at the summer camp I attended in 1945: Don’t leave the Marwedel camp boundaries and don’t go off alone.

 

I was breaking both rules as I wandered through the redwood trees of Mendocino County, California, but getting in trouble was nothing new for me. With my bad grades, bad attitude and bad language, a lot of people considered me a lost cause.

 

“Watch out for Henry Petereit,” the principal of my grammar school had written to the junior high principal who would inherit me in the fall. “He’ll be in San Quentin by the time he’s eighteen.”

 

Nobody expected anything from me. Why expect anything of myself? I thought.

 

I heard running water in the distance and followed it. I wouldn’t get to walk in the woods back in San Francisco. I was only at camp because a welfare lady hoped it would get me off the streets. Anything but the rat trap of a flat I shared with my parents.

 

A flock of birds flew overhead, their cries echoing over the sound of rushing water. I shaded my eyes to watch them cut through the sky above the redwoods. I’d never heard a wild bird before. Nor had I ever ridden a horse, paddled a canoe, or seen a fish, turtle or salamander before this summer. Camp made me feel almost like a regular kid. Almost.

 

Read More: Redwoods Revelation – Guideposts