Article December 20, 2004 Issue

'As I watched the snow fall'

By Shelly Richardson

The four-hour drive to the mountain cabin was fun. We all oohed and aahed at the breathtaking beauty of Oregon's Columbia River Gorge. The roads were clear all the way until we turned onto the snowy logging road just outside of a small town called Trout Lake. But, as expected, our little car faithfully slipped and slid right up to the driveway of the house. Then, for three enjoyable days, our family trampled in the snow, played cards, and snuggled together around the woodstove.

The night before we were to leave, weather reports said a storm was coming. At midnight, everything looked clear, so I went to sleep. Then, around four in the morning, I woke up, looked out the window, and saw the white beauty of newly falled snow on the tall ponderosa pines outside—and our car covered in snow almost up to the bumper.

Although the snow was beautiful, the situation wasn't encouraging. From a purely practical standpoint, our car was stuck, hours from home, in snow that could last until April—and we had Christmas Eve dinner plans down in Portland that afternoon. Sure, the situation seemed bleak. But as I watched the snow fall and thought about the promise of Christmas, I felt joyful expectation in my heart—even gratitude.

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