When my husband and I bought our first home in the country, it was an exciting adventure for us. After first living in an apartment, and then a rental house surrounded by neighbors, we both longed for the privacy that living in the country would afford us. Although the home itself needed much updating, we overlooked the outdated decor, seeing instead the beautiful land surrounding it. I remember walking around the property with the owner and hearing my husband whisper to me, “This property is perfect.” We wanted privacy and we definitely would have it sitting atop a very steep hill. However, with that hilltop privacy, would come an unforeseen issue.
The first big snow in our new home, quickly made us aware that we (or should I say, that I) had a problem. Getting up and down our very steep and curvy driveway in my husband’s four-wheel drive truck wasn’t a concern. My front wheel drive car however, presented an issue . A problem because I was ill-equipped to drive in the snow, mainly because I both hated and feared doing so. That of course left me with only one solution whenever I wanted to go out. I would leave my car at the bottom of our driveway, knowing that my husband would drive my car to the top for me. More often than I care to remember, my husband did just that, sometimes with me in the passenger seat of my car, him insisting that he was going to teach me how to maneuver our snow-covered driveway. I was okay with trying to learn, but it’s not so easy to do with your eyes closed. Which was normally the case once my husband would make a “run for it” up our driveway. He would back down our county road before doing just that, in order to show me how to get the momentum that I would need in order to get to the top of our driveway. With a death grip on the armrest of my car, I would always close my eyes, screaming for dear life, feeling the panic brought on by my sliding car. Once at the top, my husband would usually look at me as if I’d completely lost my mind, accepting defeat that I was impossible to teach.
There comes a time when we must face our fears, and so it was on a snowy winter’s day that I’d decided to conquer mine. I almost could imagine the look of shock on my husband’s face, as I backed down our county road to make a “run for it.” I was about to do what my husband deemed impossible for me to do. Good in theory, but not so much in action. With my foot on the gas pedal, I took off, anticipating my success. It was a short-lived feeling because in the midst of gaining momentum, my car began to slide, and from the sheer panic of it, I slammed on my brakes, instead of steering my way out of the slide. It wasn’t that I didn’t know any better, I was fully aware that I needed to ease on my brakes, letting up gently before braking again. I wasn’t a complete novice; I had successfully passed driver’s education as a teenager. Yes, I certainly knew better, but my foot seemed to have been absent during that driving lesson because it wasn’t about to let up on the brake. And in my failure to do so, I soon found myself sliding backwards down my driveway. Screaming like a lunatic, with a white knuckled grip on my steering wheel; somewhere in the heavens, my screams must have gotten the attention of an angel or two because by the grace of God, despite my foots inability to leave the brake, my car came to a complete stop. It took a good five minutes before I realized that my car wasn’t going anywhere and I could take my foot off the brake. In doing so, I finally mustered the courage to put my car in park and turn off the engine. It was going to be a long walk to my house, an even longer one knowing that I’d failed to overcome my fear.
Now in my defense, for those who are rolling your eyes at my inability to drive up my own driveway, I feel it is important that you know where my fear of sliding stems from. Decades ago, with a newly awarded driver’s license, my best friend and I ended rubber side up on a dirt road. This was in a day and age when seatbelts weren’t required and when cars were much sturdier than they are now. Although neither of us were hurt, the memory of that out of control sliding, and the impact of my car as it flipped over onto the gravel road, has left me with a fear of being in a car that slides. With my inability to overcome that fear, I realized that I would be doing a lot of walking up my driveway. Funny thing was, going down my driveway, didn’t concern me as much as going up it did. After all, I knew that if I slid going down it, I would probably safely end up in the ditch. It was the sliding backwards, and out of control that really sent me into a panic. Now mind you, sliding period, scares me, but sliding backwards is a whole other kind of scared. That of course left me with no alternative, but to continue walking up my very steep and very long driveway. No problem, I could manage that as long as my husband continued driving my car up for me. I had it all figured out, but what I didn’t take into consideration was there might come a time when I wouldn’t even be able to drive down my driveway.
It was the biggest snow we’d had since moving in. I stood in awe, watching big beautiful snowflakes, piling on top of what appeared to be nearly a foot of snow. I watched as my husband cleared snow from his 4-wheel drive truck, preparing to go to work. Holding my breath as I watched him slowly edge down our driveway, almost bottoming his truck out in the deep snow; his tracks barely visible in the mounds of white flakes. With only a snow shovel to clear our driveway, it was quite apparent that I wouldn’t be going anywhere for days. I couldn’t deny that it was absolutely beautiful, seeing the trees bent from the weight of the snow, but the thought of not being able to leave my own home, left me wishing we’d thought of how we’d maneuver our driveway in the winter before buying our house in the spring.
Oh well, we couldn’t go back, and so I decided to take my mind off my inability to leave by doing some housecleaning. While cleaning my floor, I heard an unfamiliar sound causing me to turn off my vacuum cleaner. With the sound getting closer and closer to my house, I hurried to my bedroom window to investigate. The brightness of the snow, momentarily blinded me, as I squinted out the window searching for the source of that sound. There, making its way up my driveway was a big, blue tractor; its plow cutting through the snow like a hot knife to butter. I watched in awe as the tractor turned and headed back down my driveway, pushing the heavy snow out of its way with such ease. I hurriedly put my boots and coat on, stumbling out the back door, through the deep snow, and then futilely waving my arms, hoping to get the driver’s attention. But it was too late, the big, blue tractor and its driver was gone, leaving a cleared path of snow in their wake.
It took, but a phone call to a friend living nearby, to find out that the man in the big, blue tractor lived less than a mile down the road from me. I remember telling my friend about the mysterious Good Samaritan who’d showed up to plow my driveway and then asking her if she might know who it could have been. “That’s probably Pete,” she answered. I would come to find out that Pete was known for his big, blue tractor, and its appearance whenever snow covered driveways were in need of plowing.
I was astonished that someone would do something so thoughtful without ever having met us. My husband and I were so grateful that we drove a few days later to Pete’s farm and introduced ourselves, thanking him with a pork roast. Pete was humble and acted like it was no big deal. He was simply helping out a neighbor.
Pete is long gone, but the memory of that big, blue tractor, clearing my driveway of snow still brings a smile to my face.
There are times in our lives without even knowing it, we are leaving an impression on someone, and like it or not, given our actions in life, those impressions will either be good or bad. A few years later, my husband and I were able to afford our own tractor, much smaller than Pete’s, but very capable of getting our driveway cleared of winter snows. Although it was no longer necessary for Pete to clear our driveway, the memory of him doing so left an impression on both my husband and myself. Moreso, my husband than me.
With Pete’s passing and snow piling high in driveways, I would watch from my window, as my husband headed down our driveway, before disappearing from sight. The distinct sound of his tractor, as it headed in search of those driveways, needing cleared of snow.
Hebrews 13:16 – And do not forget to do good and to share with others, for with such sacrifices God is pleased.