Walking in the Valley A bi-weekly column, featuring one Christian's (a)musings on life's journey by Barbara Dahlgren

My Christmas Angels Column for the weeks of December 1-15, 2006

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My husband Pastor Mel and I have done a lot of youth work through the years. He is the one gifted with a certain rapport with the youth and I do a lot of behind the scenes organizing. That way I don’t have to interface much with teenagers. Just kidding! I love the little darlings – just not as much as my husband.

One year we were returning late at night with a bus load of teens from an activity in the Portland, OR area. Mel was driving the bus and I was following with a van load of moms. We stopped about 45 minutes outside of our destination, Tacoma, WA, to gas up the vehicles and let the kids call their parents to pick them up at the church hall. The moms and I finished quickly and decided to head for home.

Mel looked at me wryly. I knew what he was thinking. “My wife, who has no since of direction, wants to go off on her own with 5 women on this foggy night. Should I say anything?” Being a wise husband, he wished me well and said he’d be there soon. However, with the fog and some snow residue left in the medians and on the side of the freeways, he did say, “Be careful!” Then he added, “And whatever you do, don’t get a ticket!”

Men don’t have much of a sense of humor when it comes to women with cars and tickets and such. Of course, the reason I couldn’t get a ticket is because Pastor Mel had a heavy foot in those days and already maxed us out ticket-wise. One more and our insurance would go up. But I digress.

Did I mention it was Christmas Eve? That’s important to note!

The ladies and I hopped in the van, eased onto the foggy freeway, and buzzed down the highway. Well, it didn’t take too long for us to discover we were going the wrong direction. Don’t ask me how all 6 of us missed the fact we got on the south freeway ramp instead of north. Unfortunately, it was 29 miles to the next exit and there didn’t seem to be any rest areas or turn around spots. What to do? What to do?

Suddenly, I thought, “There’s snow in the median, but it’s not deep. I bet I could just drive the van to the other side.” Yes, it was against the law, but the other women thought it was a good idea, too, so I turned left and headed across the median. We reached the middle before the car got stuck. Then I learned a big life lesson: Just because there is snow on the ground, doesn’t mean the ground is frozen. It could be thawed just enough to get your van stuck in the mud.

Now here I am with 5 chattering ladies stuck literally in the middle of nowhere. The only way to quiet them down was to say, “Let’s pray!” I did. No sooner had we said, “Amen!’ when a car stopped on the north side, the direction we wished to go, and two men full of the Christmas spirit, if you know what I mean, hopped out and said, “Don’t worry. We’ve called the police to help.”

It’s amazing how much can flash before your eyes in a split second. Visions similar to one of Dickens’s ghosts in A Christmas Carol appeared hazily before my eyes. Yeah verily, it looked like my husband, pointing a finger at me and spookily saying, “What ever you do, don’t get a ticket.”

The jolly men started walking toward the car. The women were concerned. I could tell because one said, “Lock the doors. I think we’re going to die.” I on the other hand sized up the situation, considered the stature and happy condition of the guys and figured three of us could sit on one, and three on the other to hold them until the police got there if necessary. Besides, had we not just prayed for rescue? I said, “These are our angels.”

Visions of George Bailey in It’s a Wonderful Life flashed in my mind. When he meets his angel Clarence for the first time, he hears his squeaky voice, looks at his polka-dot bow tie, and surveys his stodgy demeanor. “Well,” he says. “You look about the kind of angel I'd get. Sort of a fallen angel, aren't you? What happened to your wings?” That’s about how I felt looking at my two inebriated angels.

In less than a wink, we were pushed out of the mud and onto payment. We thanked the men profusely. They ran to their car, turned around and waved, saying, “Happy Christmas to all!” Thoughts of Clement Moore’s poem A Visit from St. Nicholas ran through my mind. Not to be out-quoted by a drunken angel, I yelled the next line. “And to all a good night!”

Our little adventure lasted less than 10 minutes – and my Christmas present was not receiving a police citation. When we arrived at the church right behind the bus, my husband said, “I thought you’d beat us here.”

“Well, we took our time,” I replied. I lifted my eyes to heaven and whispered, “Thank you, Lord.” Then I thought about what Tiny Tim said in A Christmas Carol. “God bless us everyone!”

Be sure to visit this page often to read the next edition of Walking in the Valley. You can write to the author at bdahlgren@wcgsouthbay.org.