“Yep, that’s my son right there.”

My son, Iain Kenneth graduated high school this year, and is now at the University of North Carolina at Charlotte. He is a mechanical engineering student, is in the the Air Force ROTC program, and recently, became the only jazz guitarist on the UNC Charlotte Jazz Ensemble.

He is a handsome, determined young man, and we are very proud of him. But as with all of our kids, Iain has occasionally stepped from the path we felt was best for him. But we believe he’s been able to learn from those missteps, and get back on his own “path of righteousness” as I call it. Surely he has a lifetime of lessons to learn, as we all do. But I believe Iain is grounded in his God, in his family, and his ability to look where he has come from, adjust his course, turn and press on.
This story describes a short hike I took with Iain when he was three or four.

On a cloudy, cool Southeast Alaska day in October, a little boy, about 3 or 4 years old walks down a narrow board walk, out across a muskeg in Southeast Alaska. By narrow, I mean less than 12 inches wide, and it crosses an open area pockmarked with water filled holes, muddy grassy areas, and surrounded by beautiful spruce, hemlock and smaller scrubby pines. There are also birds here, mostly ravens, but the occasional bald eagle will call out from nearby, or soar overhead, sometimes close enough to hear the wind rushing through the feathers on its wings.

The little boy’s Dad follows close behind, watching his son as the boy cautiously places his steps on the slippery boardwalk, while trying to take in all that surrounds him; the sounds, sights, and the smells of the muskeg.

As they reach the back of the muskeg, the boardwalk is swallowed up by the tree line, and father and son ascend more narrow wooden steps, up the trail into the forest.

The young boy wants to explore every hole at the base of every tree, so progress up the trail is slow.
Eventually, even though the little boy is clad in fleece and wearing small rubber boots to keep his feet dry, he becomes a bit cold, and tells his Dad that he wants to go home. Dad lets him lead the way back down the trail, onto the slick steps, and back out onto the boardwalk into the open muskeg.

As they walk down the boardwalk across the muskeg towards home, the little boy has become a little more confident in his steps across the boardwalk, but continues to be distracted by his surroundings. His Dad warns him to keep his eye on the boardwalk, or he’s going to end up in the mud on either side. “OK Dad”, he says, and although he keeps his eye on the path for a few moments, he eventually becomes distracted again, and suddenly one small rubber boot catches the edge of the boardwalk, and the little boy tumbles into a water-filled hole in the muskeg, submerging him up to his waist. After the initial shock of the cold water soaking his fleece, and filling his boots, he begins to cry for his Dad, who reaches down to pluck him out of the hole, gently lifting the soaking boy back onto the boardwalk.
As water drips down his waist and legs into his already full boots, he reaches up for his Dad to pick him up, “Carry me!” he cries, shivering, as tears roll down his cheeks.

“Iain, you can make it home,” his Dad says. “What you need to do is keep moving, and keep your eyes on the boardwalk. You fell in because you weren’t watching where you were going..”
He wants to pick the boy up, but he knows that the boy needs to learn how to get back up and move on after falling down, in spite of the cold and wet, and he needed to know why he fell in.

The little boy continues to insist on being carried, his eyes welling with tears. Dad kneels down and hugs him and tells him again, “Iain, you can make it home. Turn around, and keep your eyes on the boardwalk this time. I’m right behind you, I won’t leave you, I promise. You can do this.”

Reluctantly, Iain turns and starts down the boardwalk towards home, this time keeping his eyes on the path ahead, sniffling, as he wipes the tears from his eyes.

As they move slowly down the trail, the little boys’ step picks up, and he stops crying, focusing on what lies ahead. This time he watches the boardwalk, only occasionally looking up to look around, perhaps to see where they are.
As they make the last turn in the trail and the trailhead comes into view, he looks up at his Dad and says, “Dad, we made it!”

“See Iain? I told you that you could do it, and you did! We only have one more block to walk, and we’ll be home, and you can dry off and get warm.” Without hesitation, the little boy turns and almost runs the rest of the way home, water squishing in his boots, and he hardly notices it. The Dad watches his son run up the steps and thinks, “yep, that’s my son right there..”