Snow Angels Come in Pairs

They had instituted the liberal leave policy at three o'clock.

But we were already more than worried by then when the snow had started falling just after two.

Earlier that morning, the local forecast had warned of heavy snow later in the afternoon. We had ignored it at the time but now everybody was growing anxious about the commute home.

Some of my co-workers lived over an hour away in neighboring counties, some in a different state entirely.

Fortunately, I lived only thirteen miles from work which usually meant a forty-minute commute during rush hour and as little as twenty minutes in no traffic.

But that day, it took me over eight hours to get home in one of the worst traffic jams we'd seen in over a decade.

Ten minutes after snowfall, one of our directors made haste to leave while the rest of us waited for our company to post an update. I was tempted to follow after him, preferring unpaid leave over getting stranded in the snow.

When we were finally let go an hour later, I was debating whether to check into a hotel, wait out the storm inside my building, or brave the roads with my little sports car which had better handling but terrible traction. I was especially nervous because rear-wheel drive vehicles did poorly in snow. Unless you had a truck or SUV, there was a pretty good chance of getting stuck.

But I realized it was going to be risky no matter what I decided and I had made it through winter storms before. As I watched my colleagues leaving one by one with furrowed brows and resigned sighs, I gathered what little courage I had knowing that I would soon join them.

So it was with much trepidation when I reluctantly got behind the wheel and started driving.

After getting out onto the main road, I barely registered the gold Lexus that had spun out into the intersection. I was so focused on making it to the highway that I didn't even realize that it was my supervisor's car and she was standing outside, waving to me as I passed.

By some small miracle, I made my way onto the highway which had less traffic than expected. I followed cars from a safe distance and was careful to drive around stopped vehicles.

Other cars weren't so lucky.

I held my breath as I watched cars drift off into the shoulder or fall into ditches. The van behind me hydroplaned across four lanes. Trucks were parked by the side of the road, either stuck or waiting. The worst was when I saw a tractor-trailer jackknife into an oncoming car.

The real trouble started when I had exited back onto local roads.

The snow was falling wet and heavy and the twilight made it hard to see.

Where I live, everyone knows that bridges are the first to freeze over during colder weather. I knew by instinct to slow down because frozen bridges meant death traps in the middle of winter storms.

But even despite this, I couldn't escape my fate as I felt my car sliding off onto the side of the bridge. No matter how hard I pushed the gas, my car could only gurgle in response. After a couple more futile attempts, I could smell the acrid fumes of my clutch.

Just as I was about to get out of my car and shovel, a tall woman in a black coat suddenly appeared before me.

She had nothing else on her; no purse, no tools, not even a cell phone.

The only thing I remember is her long, curly brown hair and the sound of her voice, firm and determined.

"I'm going to push from behind while you press on the gas. So when the rubber hits the road, don't look back. Don't stop to thank me."

"Just keep driving."

I couldn't see from where I was but my car started moving almost immediately.

I tried to stick my head out the window but the best I could do was yell, "Thank you!" before I made it over the bridge and back onto more solid ground.

I simply couldn't believe it.

Why was there a woman standing in the middle of a bridge? This was no residential area to be taking a walk.

As soon as I crossed the bridge, I looked into my rear-view mirror.

There was no one there.

She had disappeared into the white and a part of me wondered if I had only imagined her.

Thinking that I had cleared the worst, I had one more stretch of road to go before I reached my neighborhood. Steadily making my way to the next intersection, I found myself on a blind curve when my car stalled against the embankment.

It had only been half an hour since my car had started moving again and now I was stuck once more, wheels spinning.

But as if someone had just pressed instant replay, a man in a brown coat approached just as I was about to open my car door.

He looked to be in his late forties and spoke with a Latin accent.

"Try again. But this time, put the car in low gear."

I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Here was this man, another stranger who had materialized from the snow and he was teaching me to drive!

I did as he instructed as he pushed from behind, and then from the side.

His hand was still braced against my window when my car wrenched free.

Again, it didn't take much with his help.

I gripped my wheel once more when a cry caught in my throat.

I yelled as loud as I could, "Thank you!"

But this time, I stuck my hand out the window and waved furiously in gratitude.

Just like before, I looked in my rear-view mirror only to see a curtain of snowflakes.

Was he a ghost, too?

The great irony is that I never did make it home that day.

At least, not in my car.

The last leg of my commute proved to be the most painstaking. It took twenty minutes to move just an inch and every time my car stalled, I would rush outside with my ice scraper to clear the snow around my tires.

Abandoned cars cluttered the lanes and scores of people just left their cars after running out of gas. At some point, I couldn't tell if there were more cars than people walking outside.

Sitting in traffic, I had plenty of time to check my mobile apps. The whole area was emblazoned in red with hazard signs signifying all the roadblocks. At this rate, it would have taken me another three hours to get home.

So after coming within five miles of my house, I pulled into the nearest shopping center and called my brother.

When I finally did park my car after eight harrowing hours, my hands still frozen from scraping the cold snow, I started to cry.

But it wasn't tears of relief that streamed down my face after overcoming such an ordeal.

I cried out of sheer gratitude, humbled by the kindness of not strangers or friends, but angels who had come to my rescue and the grace of a benevolent God who knew I couldn't have made it alone.

They say that snow angels are human designs left onto fresh snow.

And I certainly know this to be true.

Because that evening, it was neither fools who rushed in to save me nor angels who feared to tread.

But rather, a pair of snow angels who carried me.

Two angels who I will never soon forget.