God's Will Often Necessitates U-Turns
The temperature probe located underneath the front bumper sent the bleak news to the dashboard's computer display that it was 31 degrees outside.
Why anyone in their right mind would be out on a night such as this, let alone operating a motor vehicle was beyond me. But here I was, cautiously heading north on Greenwood Lake Turnpike-final destination: Shiloh Bible Camp-located high atop snow-covered Burnt Meadow Road, overlooking Monksville Reservoir in the historic ironworks district of Hewitt.
My evening began when I ran out to Staples to pick up a few things for my home office just about the same time when the raging ice storm really got going.
It had been intermittently drizzling and spitting flurries for most of the day and the meteorologists warned the worst was yet to come.
As I was leaving the parking lot I watched wide-eyed as the van in front of me spun out 360 degrees before finally coming to a stop. Oh joy, I thought as I contemplated the fifteen-mile drive into Nanook of the North Country where I knew the temperature would be several degrees lower.
The singles group from our church had chosen this weekend for a retreat at the camp. Among the 55 or so men and women comprising the group were two deaf guys and I had volunteered to be their sign-language interpreter during the conference.
The drive to Staples had been a trial run to see what the roads were like before setting out on what I imagined would be a much longer and more treacherous trek.
Our home is situated a mere two-tenths of a mile from Route 23 but the topography is such that we are smack dab in the middle of a tiny mountain valley surrounded by woods and lakes. It's a microenvironment that can best be described as living in a huge refrigerator. The immediate vicinity around my house is naturally chilled several degrees lower than neighborhoods less than a half-mile away.
It's great in the summer when the sun goes down and things cool off quickly. But in the winter when frozen precipitation falls, it's not long before our block resembles Armageddon making it virtually impossible to predict what the main roads are like from the vantage point of my living room window.
The drive north on 511 through Wanaque and Ringwood proved to be without incident as most sane people were home nestled all snug in their beds leaving the roads empty for psychopaths like me. For most of the ride, the only things whiter than the ice pellets ricocheting off the windshield were my knuckles as they applied a choke hold on the leather steering wheel.
With about three miles to go I started to relax and enjoy the ride even though the temperature outside was now 27 degrees and the sleet showed no signs of letting up.
Finally, cresting the hill on Burnt Meadow Road I turned into the camp's parking lot where all four of our church's vans were parked, each of them safely delivering their precious cargo earlier that evening.
Sometimes duty calls and we are forced to accept a level of risk we are not accustomed to. Why bother? We argue with ourselves. It would be so much easier to avoid responsibility.
"No" is such an easy word to pronounce. It's monosyllabic and quick-you sort of flick your tongue off the roof of your mouth while shaping your lips into a circle and blowing a little air through your vocal chords and voila! -Hours of commitment can be thrown into someone else's lap without a second thought.
I've said "no" to responsibilities when I should have said, "yes" and I am sure if you were honest with yourself, you would also plead guilty as charged.
On this particular night, I had come close.
After witnessing that van spin out in front of me in the parking lot at Staples, I decided I'd head home where it was "safe." But then I thought about those two deaf guys who were counting on me to be there and I made a U-turn.
With each new day we are given opportunities to serve others.
Will we risk it all or just say "no?"
