Divine Intervention


We had only one vehicle at the time, and when I needed it, I drove my husband a distance to work via a country road then picked him up. My hubby relocates commodities. The product goes far and wide in the transport truck he masters, so his start and end to his work days varied greatly.

It was one of the worst winters for brutal storms that year. Hydro wires were iced over often, layers of snow and ice made it nearly impossible to clear driveways unless one owned a snow-thrower. Salt, sand, and plows were ineffective, and whiteouts caused many drivers misery, and for some, death. My husband’s job was driving a rig. My job was to pray for him.

It was sunny, cold morning, not a cloud to be seen in the early periwinkle-blue sky. I needed the car that day then I’d head out that early evening to rescue my husband from his long day. Heavy purple and steel-grey layered clouds had been forming all afternoon; skinny flakes of snow swirling to earth. Savage winds started pushing boney, leafless trees and bending road signs enough to cause that metal wobbling sound. Another storm was nigh. I prayed that my hubby would make it through his day unscathed.

The daylight was meagre when I left to pick up my hard-working guy, and like summer deluges occur rather suddenly, this snowstorm did much the same. We all know what the fat flakes look like surging towards the windshield moments before we see only a vehicle length ahead of us. The wipers could hardly keep up. I wanted to pull over, but I had to get my hubby. I was afraid I wasn’t even on my side of the road. I asked God to make the snow stop so I could finish the trek to the truck yard. It became worse. I begged. Under my gloves, my knuckles were white on the steering wheel. The wind shrieked  around the car, the storm engulfed me. God didn’t come to my rescue.

There were very few side roads along this route. Despite that, blinking hazard lights appeared in front of me when I hadn’t traveled far enough, according to my dash clock, to intercept with one. The pace was steady and my fear was calmed. Those  hazard lights guided me quite near to the yard. When I saw that it was an old Ford pick up truck, it ceased to exist. I looked right, left… where did it turn off? No side roads. That Ford came as fast as it went, and in that accumulated snow, I saw no tire tracks in front of me. On the way home, the storm had finished its worst. The snow on the road was broken up only by one vehicle as if I were alone the whole time.

I posted a similar story, Pink Night Navigation. I receive miracles when I drive. Huh. Curious.

© L. P. Penner, 2015


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