As Autumn is fast approaching, I can’t help but think that Christmas is just
around the corner. Many will be preoccupied by the long shopping lists they will
be making, but, I will taken back to a special Christmas Day in 1997.
It was the first Christmas following the untimely death of my brother, Bill, who
passed away just shy of his 38th birthday. I had driven my elderly mother, my
developmentally disabled older sister, as well as my young niece up to Hurley,
in the northern most region of Wisconsin, for the purpose of visiting my
mother’s older sister, who was ailing. This was a very unnerving journey, as the
weather was not conducive to safe travel, given the 48 inches of snow, which had
fallen, prior to our arrival. Readers, it may sound unbelievable, but this
amount of winter precipitation isn’t the least unusual for that particular area
of Wisconsin.
My mother and I, especially knew that we would not have many more opportunities
to visit with this lady with her failing health and advanced. Going up to Hurley
had become a tradition with us, as this was my mother’s birthplace and the town
she had spent a childhood fraught with hardship, but was not without its fond
memories, of a simpler time.
My Aunt’s farewell, to my mother, was a very poignant one, as I saw her hold
tightly to my mother’s hands, and, pulling me closely to the group, with a quiet
urgency in her voice, uttered, “I love you; always remember that”. The intensity
of this hug almost caused us to fall on her porch. As we walked away from my
Aunt’s house, I felt compelled to look over my shoulder and somehow knew that
would be the last time we’d ever see her . . . And it was.
I dreaded the return trip home, as the snowplow drivers couldn’t seem to keep up
with the blizzard and hazardous conditions, the icy pallets that fell from the
sky whipped at our faces, making weather conditions all the worse. I want to
point out, here, that my Aunt’s house was located in an isolated area, and on a
hill. As we backed out of her drive, I felt the back end of my car slide
backward into the ditch on the opposite side of the road, despite my best effort
to avoid this.
I advised everyone, in the car, to remain in the vehicle, so that I could go
outside, to assess the situation. I don’t think I’d ever felt so helpless and
discouraged as I did on that dreary winter day. Looking about me, the street was
deserted, with not a soul in sight. Everything seemed absolutely lifeless, as
though somebody had taken us and just projected onto a picture of a painted
winter landscape. I almost felt outside of myself. After sharing with my
traveling companions that we were, indeed, “stuck”, we devised the only plan we
could come up with, which necessitated my young niece of 11 years, to get behind
the wheel, where the passenger’s window was slightly ajar, so that we could yell
instructions to her, as to when she should shift the car into drive and gently
press the accelerator.
Please bear in mind, we had rehearsed what she should do, so, that she would be
well aware of what was expected of her. But the few attempts poor little Sarah
was willing to make, due to her rattled nerves, proved futile. Ultimately, the
decision was made to get back into the vehicle because of the blustery winds and
the icy pallets of sleet that were pelting against us. Shivering,
uncontrollably, I tried the cell phone, with which we might try to alert the
authorities we were in desperate need of help. Because there are no towers in
that area, the phone was useless. I strongly suggested we all start praying,
which is exactly what we did.
Within only moments, I noticed a rusty brown truck parallel with my car. I was
startled by the presence of this vehicle as the front passenger’s window was
still slightly open, and I never so much as even heard anyone approaching! There
before us, stood a kind gentleman, who age I could not determine, asking if he
we were all right; to which, we replied that physically we were fine. Our car
had just been pulled into the ditch as we slowly backed out of the driveway.
I was pleasantly taken aback by the mesmerizing gaze he directed at me; there
was such gentleness about him. As I looked into those eyes of sky blue, I was
immediately calm and felt confident that the answer to our prayers had come in
the form of this “Good Samaritan”.
From his words to his actions, there was a softness to him, for lack of a better
word, which is not to say that he looked weak, but there such an ease of
movement and speech about this man. He asked us to remain in the vehicle and
assured us he would push us out of the ditch. Thinking he meant he would use his
vehicle, in order to accomplish this great feat, we were completely awestruck to
see the man, himself, intended to perform the task, by his own strength!
Miraculously, he extricated us from the rut, which had seemed to pull us into
its relentless grip.
Upon endeavoring to push us out, he succeeded the very first time. I had to
wonder at the super human strength this seemingly ordinary yet special man
possessed. As soon as we were securely positioned back onto the road, I left my
vehicle and made my way toward this mysterious stranger and extending an
offering of money, for his trouble, I thanked him, asking him to take it.
Looking face to face at this gentleman, I felt I was viewing him, soul to soul,
rather than person to person. Feeling I was in a trancelike state, I felt so
protected and secure, in this man’s presence that I didn’t want him to leave.
Somehow, in my heart, this “stranger” was very familiar to me, although we had
never met.
He slowly lifted his hand and said, “I can’t, it’s Christmas . . .” I begged
this selfless gentleman to take my token of appreciation and again, he refused,
uttering, “Merry Christmas”. I found myself returning to my car, with tears
streaming down my cheeks, which I thought would freeze right on my face, given
the cold, ruthless winds slashing at me, thinking, “My God, he reminds me of
Bill.” With my companions, I shared my opinion that this man bore a strong
resemblance to my departed brother.
As he pulled away, as though he were assured we soon would be safely on our way,
I tried to get a glimpse of his license plate number, so I might, in future,
learn who our rescuer was, for he was no less than that. And almost as if we
were not meant to ever learn his identity, for whatever reason, I saw the back
plate packed with snow.
In retrospect, I have to wonder about life’s little ironies as I remember that
our temporarily disabled vehicle was positioned between my Aunt’s house and a
little yellow country church and in that space, there were 4 females praying
fervently to “Papa God”, Whom we were well aware heard all prayers. And who
should enter into this scenario, but a complete stranger, who had a supernatural
air about him.
Looking back, even today, I’m still convinced that we were met and rescued by
someone, who was no less than an Angel. I doubt that I’ll never experience
another Christmas Day, that I won’t think of him and his Christmas gift of
kindness, warmth, and generosity of heart, which he bestowed upon 4 frightened,
stranded travelers.
I’ll never forget that man ---- or that Christmas Day!
Annette M Winter awinter@powerweb.net
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