"This could be your last meal," my mother jokingly said before we left that day. The day was bright, and the sun gleaming. The group packed into the muggy van, it was stifling hot, and downright uncomfortable. On a hot summer Missouri day, in the middle of July, your shirt clung to your damp skin. The mission: White Water Rafting. The drive to the river, where we would begin our incredible journey, seemed to last endless miles. The humidity was almost unbearable; the van had absolutely no ventilation. Fifteen people packed like sardines, ant ....