Category: Stories I Share

And You shall remember the whole way that the LORD your God has led you these forty years in the wilderness … Deuteronomy 8:2 (ESV)

I haven’t survived a desert wilderness, but years ago, my husband and I survived what seemed like a snow wilderness when he drove precarious roads from North Carolina to our home in Maryland.  He had a work crisis, and I quickly linked the snowstorm to his work storm.

The further we drove, the deeper the analogy rested in my heart. I reminded us that God would guide my husband just as a trucker was guiding us. (See here.)

 

When we exited I-95 and made our first stop in five hours—leaving our trucker—the front of our car was encased in ice. I kicked and slapped until three-inch-thick ice sheets fell.

Route 301 was worse than I-95—deserted and packed with trackless ice. My dashed hopes reminded me that we travel from challenge to challenge. I had confidence we would make it home—even if the journey was worse than anticipated. It was. We did.

My Great-Aunt Frances never married or had children. She broke one engagement after her fiancé caused a division in their church. At her mother’s request, she stopped dating a wonderful man who wanted to marry her. Her sickly mother wanted her last single daughter to remain at home.

I repeatedly told Aunt Frances that she didn’t marry because we all needed her. She not only mothered her nieces and younger brother but also the generation above and two generations below.

However, her greatest devotion was quitting her job to spend a decade caring for her mother with Alzheimer’s. Aunt Frances slept across the foot of my great-grandmother’s bed so she would wake if her mother needed her during the night.

I remember those difficult years during my childhood. Aunt Frances stayed cheerful and funny and always served a treat when we visited. She made my sons, her great-great nephews, sticky buns like the ones that she had made for me.

During that time, Aunt Frances completed multiple paint-by-numbers and doll kits. I own five of her paintings and two dolls.  Her skill was great, but those items are precious to me because they represent my aunt’s faithfulness.

My youngest spent a college semester traveling through six countries.

After arriving in Athens, the study abroad group disbanded for an eight-day spring break. Students either flew home or were joined by family—too expensive for us.

After exploring numerous options, it became clear that my husband must join our son. How did we afford such a trip? I sold used, unwanted college textbooks on Amazon. In one day, I raised much of the $800+ airfare.

This “cheap” flight had an Amsterdam layover and arrived hours after my son. For some reason, I couldn’t bring myself to book it. Perhaps, I hoped for price drop? And then, I forgot.

I remembered the Thursday of the historic landing of a US Airways plane in the Hudson River—fourteen years ago today. Travelers briefly became wary of New York City departures. My coveted, nonstop flight from New York City plummeted to $600. I snatched it.

My son emailed “How will I find Dad?”

“He will be waiting at your airport exit gate.”

“Wonderful.”