This week’s snow that wasn’t supposed to come here reminded me of snow angels. Not the kind you make by flopping in several inches of the fluffy stuff – although I’ll probably make a quick one of those, too – but angels who appear when you need help in the snow.
Over the years we’ve lived in Virginia in the winter, there have been snow angels of all shapes and walks of life who have appeared when I needed them.
One Sunday I had to abandon my 1965 Dodge Dart in a ditch on the way back from church in Lynchburg, with two of our small children in the car and my husband at home in bed with the flu.
A young man who was studying at Liberty University loaned me his fur-lined gloves and then another angel drove us to our house five miles away.
Perhaps the most memorable “angel,” was an older man who pushed that same Dodge Dart out of a ditch on a relatively flat but slick portion of our road, which 100 years or so before had been a stage coach lane, according to history. A couple of years after that, he fatally shot his niece for pouring out his pitcher of vodka and orange juice, as I recall.
There was one Tuesday night on a small 4-wheeler in the dark, plowing a new widow’s driveway. It was probably that same angel who had scraped a path up one side of our half-mile private road.
I know for sure another angel was Larry King – not the TV talk show host, but neighbor Larry King who lives at the bottom of the hill – who plowed an inch or so off our driveway before I got home, and then refused to take any money. At least I can pay him in homemade cookies.
The point is, snow angels come in the form of all sorts of characters. I thank God for them all.