The ten-mile hike

Julia Ann Westphal

The pickup truck was a welcome sight to Doug. His scoutmaster was returning to give him and his dad a ride back to the meeting spot where the rest of the Scouts were waiting to go home. Doug had not quite completed the ten-mile hike that they had set out on that sunny Saturday morning. The other fifth-grade boys had gotten way ahead of him as they hiked up and down the hills.

Doug had never walked that far before. He was happy he had participated in the hike, but now he felt just plain tired. He was especially glad his dad had gone with him. Dad had stuck by his side, giving him encouragement along the way.

When Sunday morning came and Mom called from downstairs to tell Doug to get up and come to breakfast, he cried out that he couldn't move. He said he couldn't get out of bed because his legs hurt. Mom went upstairs to Doug's bedroom and sat down on the edge of his bed. He was crying and said he was in pain. He was very fearful. Mom comforted him, reminding him that he had expressed dominion over the fear of hiking. She said that the energy and ability to go on the hike had come from God.

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