Easter duck-hunting trip in New Orleans turns nearly deadly until last-minute prayer brings miracle

Authors Squire Rushnell and Louise DuArt coined the word “Godwink” to describe the way the Lord works in mysterious ways, exemplified by this story for Easter Sunday. As they told Fox News Digital, “What mysterious force in the universe causes us to help someone in need — only to discover that we are the ones being led to life changes?”

In r a few years ago, shop windows just recently decorated with sequined outfits, colorful boas and feathered headdresses for Mardi Gras were now trimmed in baskets of pink and green, chocolate bunnies and Lily of the Valley.

Gerry Ponson, together with his then-girlfriend Shannon, strolled arm in arm through the French Quarter, laughing and stealing affectionate glances. 

Ponson balanced an air of boyish curiosity with the commanding presence of a sea captain who could turn on a dime to bark orders at his crew. Meanwhile, the nurse in Shannon showed. 

Shed learned to tuck her patience into a delightful carefree spirit. What didnt show was her worry — that if she pushed her rugged beau , he might bolt. 

Fortunately, Gerrys younger sister, Penny Ponson, had become Shannons best ally. The women shared a strong faith, and during heart-to-heart talks, they’d agreed he would benefit from believing in “someone up there” bigger than himself.

Penny told Shannon about a recent time she’d mentioned with her brother. 

“I told him, Even if you reject Him, , and you cant do a thing about it!”

“What did he say to that?” Shannon asked.

“Get out of the house!” 

They both laughed. 

During that spring holiday period, Ponson had a tradition. Every year, he , Mac, along with Macs championship golden retriever, Booga, duck hunting across the bay from New Orleans. This year, Mac had been hurting — hed lost his wife of 45 years.

As was their norm, the trio set out in Ponson’s 17-foot boat at 4:30 a.m. Booga took his post, standing at the bow while Gerry wrapped Mac in a heavy blanket and a wool watch cap. The temperature hovered in the 30s. 

For the first half-hour, Ponson felt excitement about the venture. Then, noticing changes in the wind and the rocking of the boat, an uneasiness crept over the veteran seaman.

He always checked the weather — . But the wind, rising quickly, brought higher waves that slammed the small boat with growing force.

Ponson had heard the lore of fast-developing storms in the northern Gulf — systems that escaped the notice of meteorologists — before exploding into near-gale winds, towering waves and rare but deadly storms.

Within moments, icy water began crashing over the gunwale, causing the boat to flip like a toy — and dumping the three occupants into the .

Ponson grabbed his friend by the latter man’s life jacket, shouting, “Keep moving your arms and feet!” He knew his older friend could quickly suffer from hypothermia.

Something bumped his arm — it was the boats 10-foot push pole. He seized it, driving it downward into the churning water. When it struck bottom, Ponson was thankful — at least theyd have something to hang onto.

“Hold on, Mac,” said Ponson over the wind. “Therell be a boat coming down the channel, Im sure of it.”

Booga paddled over, panting. For awhile, Ponson .

Over the next hour, as the waves battered the three of them in total darkness, Ponson fought to keep everyone alive — holding Mac upright for several minutes, then giving Booga a rest. 

“Im cold, Gerry,” Mac said in a weak voice. 

Ponson felt helpless and frustrated. Finally, he made the hardest decision he could remember. 

“I cant save you both, Mac,” he said sympathetically. “Ive got to let Booga go.”

He shooed the dog toward shore, knowing the chances of survival were nearly impossible in this weather.

“Hold on, Mac. Itll be light soon,” he said. “Somebodyll come.”

But an hour passed without . Moreover, believing in unseen things or miracles had never been Pon