A Quiet Winter Day

Today turned out very differently than I expected. Last night, too.
I planned to go to a concert, but my friend and I didn't want to go out. This morning instead of going to church, I held and comforted my poor little dog as she went through her monthly (almost to the day) seizure. The social engagement I had at noon was canceled. Was I blue? Not really. I enjoy the opportunity to hole up in my cozy domain on a very cold day.

I spent several hours on the early stages of categorizing thousands of my husband's slides, such as the one above. Seeing the various winter photos reminded me of the amazing accident he had almost a year before his death. He was down by the Red Cedar River taking pictures (what else?) late one extremely cold afternoon in January. No one was around. He stepped off the trail onto what looked like solid snow, but wasn't, and fell on his back in snow and water. He was there at least half an hour, unable to get up, calling for help, no one nearby, daylight fading, unable to reach his cell phone. He felt sure he was going to die alone in the cold.

Suddenly Nathan appeared--a slender teen on his bike, who just "happened" by. He struggled for some time to get Norris to his feet, then helped him stumble to his car. Once there, he called me and I FLEW down there to get him. Meanwhile, once the call was made, Nathan jumped on his bike and disappeared. Fortunately, Norris had gotten his name and remembered it.

Our daughter and her friend arrived, we bundled our dear man, desperately shaking, in a blanket and rushed off to the nearby hospital. They took him right into ER, warmed him up, gave him fluids, and checked his body for signs of frostbite. Except for two small spots, he was
all right and they sent him home. (This all happened just before he was about to begin chemo-therapy for lymphoma.)

But here's the most amazing part of the story. Nathan went home and said not a word about his heroism. When I contacted his mother a few days later, she had no idea what I was talking about. You see, Nathan was home-schooled and that late afternoon he decided, for no particular reason, to take a bike ride. She wondered why he would do that on such a bitterly cold day, but he was almost out of high school and she wouldn't/couldn't really stop him. She noticed he was gone quite a while and that when he returned, his cheeks were bright red. But he said nothing of how he had saved a man's life. How grateful we were and always will be to that young man, whom I'm sure the Spirit led to take his bike out just when he did.

So the pictures brought back those memories today, as I sat here with my little dog and two cats. And of course I missed Norris, but also remembered what a character he was, what fun he was, how courageous he was. And I am grateful once more.

Have a wonderful new week! And please don't let Christmas become too overwhelming, if you can help it--especially if you're a mom. May you find the Light in your darkness.