Mack and his children spend a glorious day in the mountains of Wallowa State Park in Oregon. He ends up meeting two other families and has a deep sense of joy and recognition of his blessings: his children.
During the last night’s camp fire, the questions about his own father reveal a broken past. His own father was an alcoholic who died when Mack was young. The questions produce an obvious pain and dissonance that he wants to avoid. Just as the questions begin to flow, his children arrive, saving him from any further embarrassment. His last thoughts of the evening are again how bless he is.
The next morning two of the children take a canoe trip out in the middle of the lake after breakfast. But a simple wave hello tips the boat and Mack rushes in to save them when Josh, his son, is caught underwater by the tipped canoe net. Mack struggles to save his son and with great force uprights the canoe which releases his son. He pulls Josh ashore and the boy coughs up the water. Everyone is okay.
As the last line in the book says, “A potential crisis had been averted. Or so they thought.”
Did everyone else assume that Mack did kill his dad?
What???? Did I miss something?
(crackin up)
I guess that’s a no, Verity!
ACK… Talk about being Left Behind…(feels like school all over again). OK, OK, I’ll read chapter 3!!
Did you not read the foreward?
I thought it was in there…..
I didn’t. I’ll go back and do that.
I know he says he put poison in his bottles but it doesn’t seem to imply he killed him.
that’s why I was not sure…. my thoughts were kinda 50/50 on the whole thing.
What a horribly, good book. I can’t even imagine that happening. Talk about a parents worst nightmare. Drowning and missing children. Ugh.
Have any of you had any “close calls” with you kids?
I had one of “those” moments once. Christine was gone for the weekend and I woke up on a beautiful Saturday morning to find the kids were all out of bed. I went downstairs and Carter and Amber were watching a show, but McKenna was not around. I figured she was in bed.
So I went upstairs to just check on her and she wasn’t there. I began to look around, in the bathrooms, in her closet, etc but nothing. And then it hit me that I had not locked the downstairs door that night. It’s something my wife always does. I had that split second moment of panic inside because she was nowhere in the house.
I went outside but she still wasn’t to be found. She’s a very responsible child so I know she wouldn’t like go somewhere without asking. At that point I panicked and began franticly searching the house again. I felt everything Mack was feeling when he was searching in the bathrooms. It was one of the worst feelings I have ever felt.
It’s the unknowing that killed me. My fear created all kinds of scenarios that were impossible to ignore. I thought very seriously about calling the police because it had been at least ten minutes and I’d searched the house twice. The thought of calling Christine was numbing.
Not knowing what to do I began checking the house again and there she was back in her bed. She started laughing because she was hiding from me. I didn’t say anything to her. I just grabbed her and hugged her.
It was about two months ago. Our one year old daughter, Ashlyn, was carrying a mid-to-high fever. She is normally a very energetic, active little girl, but on that afternoon she was just laying in our arms, moaning. All if a sudden, her body started convulsing and here eyes rolled up into her head. She was having a seizure. Jen looked at me and for a moment we just froze. A split second later we decided that since we live only a few blocks from the hospital it would be faster for us to throw her in the van and drive her ourselves than to wait for 911. Decision made.
We all loaded up into our green van. Jennifer held her in the front seat as Ashlyn’s body just shook. We hit our first stop light and Jennifer yelled, “She’s not breathing. She is not breathing.” I looked over at my little girl. She was blue. Her eyes were rolled up, motionless. Her body stiff and still. And I was stuck at a light. It turned green. No breathing. Bluer. Caleb (our son) was being so brave, but he was very nervous. I was freakin’ inside, but trying to remain calm and present. My little girl, blue and not breathing.
The light before the hospital, she began breathing again. Her color returned. She had been blue for about a minute or two. Her eyes resurfaced and she began moaning again. But she was breathing!! She’s alive. Once in the hospital, they got her fever down (which had spiked at 105) and within about two hours, she stopped moaning and our girl, whom we knew and loved, returned to us.
I just stared at her. For the longest time, all I could do was watch her. Her smile. Her eyes. Her walk. Her hands. Every move she made and every part of her body became miraculous. I just stared. Grateful.
I will NEVER forget those few hours. Life and our kids are gifts that can vanish in a blink.
I was at a friend’s house for an overnighter out of town. She had to take her girls to a swimming lesson, and just as she left, my son started choking. I tried to pull out whatever was in there, but it was stuck far back. Absolute panic in his face (2.5 years old), and I was running with him to the front door – hoping and praying Shari had not left yet – because I don’t know CPR. She was just backing out of the driveway, and came running back in. She threw him over her leg, and started hitting his back – two hits, and a ring popped out. I didn’t know CPR, I had no idea where her phone was, or her address – it was a real nightmare moment. And then I just held him, in tears – because there really is no wake up call quite like the fear of losing a child….
Yes, Jeromy, its a desperately sad event to lose a child. Our little grandson was only two, and the kids who left the gate to the pool unlocked only did it once… but once was enough. Three weeks ago that little boy whom I loved so much drowned in a back yard pool because of a moment of carelessness. Such a tragic loss. The Shack has brought me great comfort in my loss. Give your little girl an extra kiss tonight.. and when she asks you to read a story and that game is on tv, find the strength to walk away from the game. Her life is precious, every single moment she is alive.
Wow, thanks for sharing your tragic story, Maggie. I cannot imagine the loss you and your kids feel. I’m also glad that you are finding comfort through works of art like the Shack. I’ll really try to take your advice when my kids ask for my time. Again, I’m so sorry about the loss of your grandson. My heart breaks. Blessings!
I skipped much of the first few chapters because I don’t need to go there in my fiction. I don’t want to go there. I know people who have lost kids that can’t read this book for that reason.