Christmas is the season for miracles. But miracles happen everyday. Not just at Christmas time.
Often my mom and I would drive to Bakersfield to see my brother and watch him perform in whatever current play he was in.
One February when we happened to be on our way down, it was not the greatest of weather. Snowing hard. Blizzard almost. It was ugly.
We had stopped off in Nephi to get something to eat. Mom asked if we should check into a hotel and continue our journey the next day. I left it totally up to her – for I was for getting off the freeway two exits passed our home town – which is less than ten miles. I definetly wouldn’t be driving in that kind of weather. But mom opted to go on.
Going through the canyon was worse part of our journey. We probably should have gotten a room – but than I wouldn’t have this incredible experience to share:
The snow was falling so hard and it was dark outside and the headlights seemed to make this small star-shaped outline and was our only window to see not too far ahead. Sometimes we didn’t even know if we were actually on the road or not.
Every once in a while a car would pass us. Mom would speed up in order to follow the lights from the other car. But then we’d have to slow down again. If an animal ran out into the road, we would not see it. Besides we couldn’t do over seventy in that particular car as it would sound as though it would fall apart.
At least three cars had passed us and mom would speed up and then slow down again as we watched them disappear. They were going too fast. How could anybody possibly drive that fast in that kind of weather? It was as though we were the only car being snowed upon.
And then out of nowhere a truck appeared. The driver guided us through the canyon. We followed the lights until we were in the clear – and the truck was gone. Vanished – like it had been beamed into the cold wet sky.
The truck was a miracle – whether real or imaginary – it had been a blessing. An answer to thousands of prayers that were given in our behalf.