Proof The Bible Is True

It was the day of my family’s big move, from New Wilmington, Pennsylvania a hundred miles south to Stahlstown. My wife, kids and dog went ahead in our car while I drove the rental truck full of our belongings. Driving down the Pennsylvania Turnpike, I got a bit nostalgic. Stahlstown was just a skip away from where I grew up, Charleroi.

 

My great uncle had been a prominent figure in Charleroi, owner of the Fox Grocery Company, a food wholesaler. Every summer, the company hosted a big picnic at Deems Park for employees and their families—with all the food, fun and games a kid could hope for. The only restriction was to stay away from the foul-smelling sulfur creek that ran through the park. Of course, we ignored that. When I was five years old, I chased some older boys as they dashed across a log and I slipped. The yellow mud of the creek sucked me up. I struggled to get out. Suddenly, a big pair of adult hands grabbed me and pulled me from the stinky water. My parents thanked the man profusely. I, on the other hand, sat wrapped in a towel, stripped of my wet, smelly clothes, and stewed in my embarrassment.

 

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