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I cut it close this week. Usually, a draft of Reflections emerges from the ether by Wednesday and takes its final shape with several editing cycles. This morning, Saturday dawned with nary a word on the screen, and worse yet, nary an idea in mind. It felt like I was playing hooky when, instead of heading south toward home to write after the Farmer's Market, my car turned north.
Missoula is surrounded by its own ring of mountain scenery, but only 45 minutes away we can find an even more spectacular view: the Mission Mountains. A scenic overlook along the highway is one of my favorite places to stop, read, listen to music, and savor the beauty. I hoped those moments of inspiration would offset the hours away from my keyboard. When they ended, however, the story behind these Reflections had just begun.
I turned the key in the ignition to head back home, but nothing felt or sounded right. The engine was running, but I pressed the accelerator to little effect. After inching out of the parking space, I inched back in. A tight ball formed in my stomach; my heart raced, breath shortened, and mind went blank. Forty miles from home, five miles from the nearest town, my cellphone charge was low, and I had no clue what to do next.
A couple from Nevada, also stopped at the overlook, asked if I was OK. After checking under the hood and speculating on possible problems, they followed my snail's crawl to town, helped me find a garage, and resumed their travels only after knowing I had found the assistance I needed.
The garage owner guided me kindly and competently through options for diagnosing the malfunction and fixing it. His son drove me home to Missoula and made sure I had lined up alternative wheels before leaving me there. They shared of their lives and asked about mine. They went the extra mile. Then they did it again.
I am at home. I am safe. I am comfortable. I am savoring beauty.
Morning began with the beauty of nature: snowy peaks, green hills, and a sunny sky. Afternoon added the beauty of humanity: kind and generous strangers going out of their way to help in my time of need. The former was expected; the latter was a surprise, a gift, and a miracle.
What is your experience of help freely given when most needed and least expected to appear?
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