“Isabelle! This is Uncle John. Annette is…Annette is…”
“Uncle John! What is it?” I cried into the phone.
“The doctor said she only has…she only has a few hours left, or if I am lucky, a day or two.” His voice trailed off. Oh, my goodness! My aunt’s condition was worsening faster than we expected.
“Hold on, Uncle John!” I was thinking fast. It was 9 a.m. on a Friday in December. Could I ask to leave early from work here in Vancouver? I would try. It’s usually a six-hour trip, so if I leave at 2 p.m. this afternoon, that would put me in Okanagan Falls by 8 p.m.
“I’ll tell you what, Uncle John, you know how much Aunty enjoys Christmas? Well, let’s have an early Christmas for her. Ask the neighbours to hang a few lights outside where she can see them from her bed, and I will bring something for her. Let’s make it as happy as can be, okay?”
No answer. “Uncle John? Are you there?” I began to panic.
“Yes.” His voice was low with a stifled sob.
“I’ll be there soon. Hold on, Uncle John. I love you!” I tried my best to reassure him, of what, I didn’t know. His life was soon to be turned upside down. At the age of 79, he was about to lose his cherished companion of 46 years.
A Plan Develops
Gratefully, I was able to leave at 2 p.m. that afternoon. This left me time to pick up a small fake Christmas tree my daughters had decorated to take to Aunty. To my surprise and gratitude, they had also arranged a beautiful gift basket with sparkling apple juice, two champagne glasses, soft biscuits, and I don’t know how, but they found some chocolate-dipped strawberries and frosted grapes. It definitely helped that two of my daughters worked as florists for Safeway.
With the gifts safely secured by the seat belts, I was off and running in my little silver Mustang. Travelling the mountainous Hope Princeton Highway in summer daylight was tough, but it was December 15, and darkness was approaching.
I made it to Hope, and it looked like it would be clear sailing, meaning ‘no snow.’ The radio weather station hadn’t sent out any warnings. “I will check the weather station again when I get to Manning Park,” I muttered to myself.
A Feeling of Foreboding
The lights of the Manning Park Hotel were a welcome sight, but as I approached, my fear grew. I didn’t want to keep driving! I parked to think and pray, asking Father in Heaven to forgive my fear and protect me. I remembered how my uncle and aunt had always been a safe haven for me, and my love for them pushed out the fear. “Thank you, Father.” I continued driving.
It was now 4:30 p.m., pitch dark, but it was not snowing, so I began to relax a little. I was about halfway there. About 6 p.m. I noticed a small flutter of snow, but within 15 minutes, it was a full-blown, white-out snowstorm. Then, the weather station announced that the gates to the Hope Princeton Highway were closed as no vehicles had been detected. They hadn’t seen me pass through the gates!
What to do? The road was covered in snow, but I could still make out the edge of the road. This was crucial. On my right was a drop-off of hundreds of feet into a canyon. On my left was a solid wall of rock with a deep ditch dividing the rock wall and the road.
Within minutes, the snow was falling so heavily that the wipers could barely keep up. I had to make decisions, and fast! So much was running through my mind. I remembered that a car would turn into a refrigerator if it stopped, so I had to keep the motor going to stay warm.
Going Forward is My Only Option
Could I turn around and go back? What if the car slid off the road into the ditch or down into the canyon? No, I was probably at the point of no return. And I so wanted to at least say goodbye to my precious aunt.
“That means I have to keep going forward,” I said out loud. I sat up closer to the windshield, gripping the wheel, trying to see the yellow line on the road, but it was fast disappearing.
“Oh, my goodness! Oh, dear God! I need your help!” The yellow line had completely disappeared. “Oh, Father! I am in trouble, big trouble, and I need Thy help!” I repeated.
I began singing the hymn, “I Know That My Redeemer Lives” (Hymns, no. 136), at the top of my voice, just to keep the fear from choking me.
Now, I couldn’t see a thing. I stuck my head out the window to see better, but the ice crystals in the snow blinded me. “Oh, dear God!” I said out loud. “He lives to comfort me when faint.” I sang snatches of lines from the hymn, promising myself that if I ever got out of this, I would memorize all of it.
The Lord Guides Me in a Miraculous Way
Then, suddenly, a tunnel seemed to appear through the snow, and I could see the yellow line. I carefully followed it as it curved, and then it disappeared.
“What to do? Just go straight,” I told myself. Suddenly, that precious yellow line appeared again, but this time, it curved outward. “I think I know what’s happening! The line appears when there is a curve in the road, and when it goes away, I just drive straight.”
For three hours, I crept along what should have been a 30-minute drive. Hunched over the wheel with my eyes as close to the windshield as possible, I sang as many phrases from that precious hymn as I could remember. I eventually reached the summit, and just as quickly as the blizzard had descended on me, it petered out.
A Blessed Reunion
Thankfully, the gates at the bottom of the mountain were now open. About 11 p.m., I arrived to see my grateful uncle waving me into the house. Within minutes, I was at my aunt’s bedside, basking in her beautiful smile and twinkling eyes. She whispered, “I prayed for you to be safe.”
I set up the little tree by her bedside and turned on the tiny lights, which looked so sweet and comforting. Uncle John opened the basket, and I discreetly left them alone to enjoy their last Christmas together. As I walked away, I heard the sparkling apple juice cork pop, and my aunt’s little girl giggle warmed my heart. This was a cherished time for them before Aunty left us the next day, December 16.
How grateful I am for the Lord’s protecting care over me and for the joy of knowing I will see Aunt Annette again. I know that my Redeemer lives!