21
A Voice in the Wilderness
Caught in a Colorado blizzard, Marco and Freddie Alvarez found out just what it means that God is “an ever-present help in trouble.”
Marco Alvarez had never seen snow like this. The storm descended like a swarm of livid bees, whipped into a frenzy by cold, bitter wind. In a matter of minutes visibility dropped to zero.
Marco, together with his fourteen-year-old son, Freddie—on a long-awaited Colorado hunting trip—had welcomed the first lazy flakes that morning on the mountain ridge near timberline. They’d decided the previous day after scouting the terrain that here the elk were most likely to pass.
The snow was a fitting addition to the father-son adventure they had been planning for months. They hiked to their hiding place in the pale early light, catching flakes on their tongues and enjoying the soft quiet that accompanies a gentle snowfall, a rare treat for the visitors from Phoenix.
They settled in behind a fallen tree trunk to wait. They checked their rifles and listened intently for sounds of an encroaching herd. Nothing. Their breath made clouds of fog in the air. The feeble November sun rose in the sky, but the gloom in the forest only grew darker as time went by. And the snowfall steadily intensified, collecting on their coats and hats.
“We joked about how funny it would be to show up back home looking like two giant snowmen,” Marco said. “I’d read all the info I could find about hunting safety beforehand, but nothing prepared me for how fast things can go from postcard perfect to full-blown disaster up in the mountains.”
They heard the wind approaching long before they felt it or saw it thrash through the trees. From a distance it sounded like a torrent of rushing water. When it arrived, the air filled instantly with a swirling, biting maelstrom of snow. It stung their eyes and lashed at their exposed faces. The wind chill swiftly caused the apparent temperature to drop more than twenty degrees.
“I signaled Freddie to follow me and headed for the deer trail we’d walked to get there,” Marco recalled. “It didn’t take long to realize that while we’d been enjoying the winter scenery, the snow had covered the trail completely. We were at least two miles from our campsite, and like Hansel and Gretel, it seemed as though the birds had eaten our bread crumbs.”
Marco knew they needed to get away from the treeless slopes just above them and into the forest’s relative protection. He also felt confident that with a little luck they would recognize the way they’d come and find their camper trailer.
That confidence didn’t last long. Marco couldn’t see more than a few feet in any direction, so the landmarks he might have used to navigate were invisible. Snow was piling up at an alarming rate. Progress was slow and halting as they searched for firm footing on the steep, rocky, log-strewn mountainside.
“I hate to say it, Freddie,” he said after they’d walked half an hour. “But I think we’re lost.”
“Let’s ask God to help us,” Freddie said, after pausing to let his father’s assessment sink in.
The storm seemed to grow worse by the minute. The temperature kept falling. They could afford to waste no time. Marco considered his son’s suggestion with a bit of skepticism but realized he didn’t have a better idea.
He thought of himself as a Christian, mostly in the same way he thought of himself as a Republican or a member of the bowling league. He hadn’t grown up in a Christian home himself, but for his wife’s sake he made sure his family attended church and that his kids went to Sunday school. He regularly volunteered at church, giving generously of his time and money.
However, the idea that God was present and available in everyday life, to the point of offering real help in times of trouble, was one he’d never quite come to trust. He’d seen—and endured—too much suffering to overcome the notion that God’s interest in human life was mostly theological and academic.
Fortunately, Freddie had a different perspective on faith. The previous year the young man had attended a summer church camp in Lake Arrowhead, California, and come back changed. He was less selfish now, less obsessed with video games and TV. He was noticeably more tolerant of his siblings. When it was Freddie’s turn to pray at family mealtimes, Marco had the feeling his son was speaking to someone real, not just reciting obligatory words.
Stranded in a blizzard in the unfamiliar Rockies, Freddie said, “Let’s ask God for help” as if he planned to use a cell phone and call him up.
So they prayed.
“Dear God,” Marco began, trying to sound convincing. “Looks like we’re in some trouble and could use your help. Please show us which way to go to find our trailer.”
“Lord,” Freddie added in an earnest voice. “You know where we are and where we need to get to, but we sure don’t. This is scary, and we’re trusting you to help us. Amen.”
Marco well knew they were surrounded by thousands of square miles of forest. Even in perfect weather, a lost person could search for weeks and not find a tiny campsite tucked into a nondescript valley. But he kept his fears to himself and looked around, shielding his eyes from the stinging snow.
Now would be a good time for you to speak up, God, he thought.
Hearing nothing but howling wind, he chose the most promising course through an opening in the trees and headed toward it.
Just then a strange noise came from his right. He looked and saw a large black raven clinging to the snowy bough of a nearby blue spruce. It cocked its head to one side and looked at them for a long moment. It called again in its mumbling, gravelly voice and flew, low to the ground, away from the direction Marco had chosen. They watched it go, and then, from a distance, the bird called again, barely audible above the driving wind.
“We should go that way,” Freddie said matter-of-factly, pointing after it.
Marco started to argue that following birds through the forest was the least likely way to safety. That’s like trying to find your way back to port by following a fish in the ocean, he told himself. But the look on Freddie’s face stopped him short. He motioned for Freddie to lead.
Together they trudged through snow that was nearly a foot high, deeper where the wind pushed it into drifts. The forest had become featureless, a blanket of white snow. Every direction began to look the same, with no clear reason to go one way and not another. Still his son pressed on.
After they had walked an hour or more, Marco was beginning to fear the worst. Suddenly Freddie grabbed his arm and pointed excitedly forward.
In the trees ahead sat the raven, observing them like an ancient mystic. Then Marco looked past the bird, down the hillside through the blowing snow. He laughed aloud when he saw what Freddie must have seen—their trailer just ahead in a familiar clearing. The two whooped and hugged, filled with relief.
As if on cue the raven raised its wings and gave three loud, deep-throated calls. Then it flapped away, over their heads, back the way they had come.
“I knew right then that God had answered our prayer, just like Freddie believed he would,” Marco said. “The fact that he used the voice of a raven to do it made it all the more miraculous to me. Now it’s easier for me to believe that he is always with us, ready to help, no matter what.”
The storm began to abate soon after they were safely inside. By nightfall the sky was clear and calm. The next morning they watched, amazed, as the elk herd passed by silently in glistening snow, a few feet from their window.
“Thank you!” was all either of them could say.