The weather report explained the record-breaking cold this Friday as a polar vortex. With the wind-chill factor, it was minus 45 degrees outside. Snow was on its way. We won’t be able to bring Suzan home this afternoon, I thought, looking sadly out the window. Our daughter had started her freshman year at Kent State University. My husband, Wayne, and I were looking forward to having her home for Christmas break. Airline flights were grounded and TV alerts flashed on every channel: Stay indoors, avoid driving. Even the 35-mile drive to Kent State would be too risky.
Wayne pulled into the driveway in our Chevy Blazer, and I went to the door. His office had obviously closed early. “Ready to go?” he shouted.
“Go…?”
“To pick up Suzan,” Wayne said. “If we leave now, we can beat the snow.”
“Are you kidding?” I said. “The news reports say to stay home.”
Wayne waved off my concern. “The Blazer’s built for bad weather.”
If he thought we could do it, maybe we could. “I’ll get my coat,” I said.
I’d hoped my misgivings would go away once we got on the road, but at every mile marker, I was tempted to tell Wayne to turn around. At least we were coming up on Brecksville, where my brother, Paul, lived.
A sudden, strange grinding sound came from the Blazer. “Probably just ice on the tires,” Wayne assured me. He was as confident as ever.
Until the noise in the Blazer got louder. The car stalled, then started, then stalled again. Each time it happened, the news warnings played in my head. “If you must be outside, cover your skin everywhere.” What if we got stranded? I’d let Wayne’s confidence—and my impatience to see Suzan—overrule what God was probably trying to tell me.
I called my brother on my cell phone and gave him the mile marker we’d just passed. “We need the closest gas station,” I said.
“One’s not far,” Paul said, giving me directions. “I’ll meet you there.”
I didn’t want him out in this weather too, but he insisted. Snow had finally started to fall. The wind picked up. Wayne and I limped along to the gas station. Our Blazer died just as we reached it.
Paul was there in minutes. “Far as it will go?” he asked, getting out of his car. At least he was dressed for the weather, bundled from head to toe with only his eyes showing and a furry hat that looked like it came straight from Siberia. Thank you, God, for giving him more sense than my husband and I showed when we left the house at all.
“We’ll have to push it up and over that little apron into the lot,” Wayne said. They told me to wait in Paul’s car. Neither of them was in the best physical condition for this task. I got in Paul’s car, kicking myself. Then I swallowed my pride and called on the God I should have listened to in the first place. “Please keep us safe even though I didn’t heed your warnings.”
Through the window of Paul’s car, I saw the glint of headlights. Who else would be out in this weather? A pickup truck made its way toward us and stopped. A young man stepped out—wearing only a short-sleeved white T-shirt and tan-colored pants. His muscular physique stood out in the gusting wind. The swirling snow glistened in the darkness and gave him an otherworldly radiance, almost like an angel.
The young man walked toward Paul and Wayne and positioned himself between them. I hadn’t realized until then how tall this man was. He towered over my husband and brother, looking like a giant between them. A giant with no need for coat or hat?
He lifted the back of the car himself and pushed it up the ramp, setting it down in the lot. Paul and Wayne hardly helped. The man nodded at them, walked back to his truck and was swallowed up in the darkness. I didn’t even see his taillights as he drove away.
Paul drove us the rest of the way to Kent State for Suzan, then back to his house to wait till the weather cleared. Our Blazer stayed at the gas station until we could return for it. We enjoyed every minute of Suzan’s Christmas break. But I’d learned my lesson. I’d given God extra work to do in his busiest season, simply because I was impatient. Even so, he’d sent an angel to our rescue, an angel he may have had to relocate from warmer climes. Because our angel was dressed for a summer’s day during a polar vortex.
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