Last month when it snowed, my I unceremoniously got my vehicle stuck in a snowdrift. It wasn’t one of those driving down the freeway at a high speed and slide into the mountain of snow situations. That would be edgy, cool and a great story to tell the grandkids to show grandma had some chops back in the day.
No, I was driving maybe two miles an hour and failed to maintain control of my vehicle. Slowly, my Jeep Grand Cherokee lodged itself (with my help) into a knee deep snowdrift. Walking away from the five-minute ordeal in absolute frustration, I vowed to buy snowshoes and walk the six miles to work the next time my white flaky nemesis made an appearance.
Guess what. My anger subsided with the snow melt, I never made that Amazon purchase, and we are expecting a 12-hour snowfall. This is where an actual image of my impression of snow comes into the picture.
Put a cute, red and white, crocheted hat on Mr. Snow and you have a pretty good idea of the Merri Maywether people were seeing today .
And this is why I love small town life. Someone who lives nowhere near us said, “We can always ride home together.” There was no mockery of my fear, or poo pooing of my poor driving skills. She offered the same solution for every problem I’ve encountered in the far, far north. Many variations of the phrase, “Let me help you.”
What I loved about the moment was the understanding of how I’ve accomplished more in three years than the first 30 years of my adult life. Up here, fear is something to be conquered–and it will happen whether or not you’ll like it.
Life gives us snow, and slick roads, and extreme weather conditions. The way we handle those conditions determine the outcome. I have been lucky enough to be placed in a situation where conflict is resolved pragmatically.
And my wish for you is this: May people who understand your problems be there to patiently guide you to a solution. I’m adding to this wish, that their guidance gives you the ability to recognize the courage hiding behind the cranky face that comes with the initial reaction to those unpleasant experiences.
It happened for me. I drove myself home.
Until the next blog