Proof The Bible Is True

A heavenly stranger saved her life that summer vacation.

Few things in my childhood were more fun than getting together with my cousins from Canada. One summer break, when I was about eight years old, we traveled to the “Great White North” to visit my relatives. We decided to take a day hike to Jasper National Park in Alberta to see the glaciers.

Our older cousins and my brother Chris and I took off ahead of our parents along a snow-packed trail up into the mountains. We ran a good mile or two up the path. An iced-over lake was to the right of the path.

We stopped for a breather and scanned the frozen surface next to us. “I want to go ice skating,” one cousin said.

“Me too,” said another. “But the ice might crack,” my brother said. “How do you know it can hold you?”

“We’ll just have to test it, that’s all,” someone else reasoned. “Who’s the smallest one here?” I volunteered. I was the smallest one, so who else should test the ice, but me? Not only was I a bit of a show-off, I was also the youngest in the group and felt the constant need to be accepted.

As my cousins and big brother cheered me on, I slid one tentative foot onto the ice. It was holding. I slid my foot out a bit farther and stepped off the snowy pathway onto the ice. I inched out still farther, waved, and yelled, “Come on, you guys, it’s—” Then I screamed as I broke through the cracking ice into freezing water.

A thousand needles seemed to pierce my skin through my clothing as I sank into the glacial runoff. I was already in water too deep for me to touch bottom. My drenched clothes clung to me, weighing me down. I hung onto the edge of the broken ice.

“Help!” I pleaded with my cousins and brother on shore. “Help me out!” “We can’t, Janice! We’ll fall through,” one cousin yelled back to me.

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