RISK IN RESCUE
It was the summer of 1982, my family and I were living in Fresno, California. We had decided to take a day-trip to Yosemite National Park, which was only an hour and a half drive. We were thoroughly enjoying the splendor of the park. Sometime around midday we had stopped along the river that flows through the floor of the valley for a picnic lunch. After we had eaten, I was holding our infant daughter Rachel. I was watching some children play along the banks of the river. It was still early summer, and the snow-pack in the upper elevations had not completely melted yet; so the river was rushing on its course through the park. I was standing on a rock ledge about six feet above the river watching with keen interest twin boys playing in the stream. The father stood on a small gravel island also watching, but not very closely. I thought to myself, “If they’re not careful,…
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