When I opened my eyes this morning, I looked up from the pillow through the windows that are our headboard and saw big, feather-like snowflakes drifting toward me. I felt like a kid lying in a snow drift with my tongue out, waiting for the flakes to land in my mouth. While I’d been sleeping, nature had put on her winter coat.

By mid-morning Jack was eager for his walk. I was excited to see how the storm had beautified the beach, so we decided to take the car and do our walking along the shore, once we got there.

Although there were only two inches of snow on the roads, it was slippery, and I ran into trouble. Most of the four blocks are uphill as we “climb” the dunes. I drove over the creek bridge and started up the 45 degree angle when the van started to slip. I tried to turn into the skid as they taught us in driver’s ed, but the car had its own plan.

It began slowly swiveling around on the hill until it was crossways on the road. A gentle braking wouldn’t stop it, and the gas pedal only spun the wheels. I sat holding the steering wheel, not sure what to do, when the van began sliding down the hill sideways as if it was a happy child on a snow saucer. I pictured myself going over the edge of the road right into the creek I’d just crossed, about a ten foot drop. How would I explain this to my insurance man?

Jack was seated like an old guy in the back seat, and I began asking him what to do. “Should I turn the wheel? Straighten it? Jump out?” I wasn’t sure, but I opened the door, just in case. As we headed for the creek, suddenly my rear wheels hit a pile of leaves under the snow and grabbed hold, jerking the car to a stop.

After pausing to think, I decided to back up further into the leaves, turn the tires down hill and gun it. The van spun into front-forward position and slipped back to level ground on the creek bridge. We made it home safely and started again for the beach, this time on foot. God had prepared a surprise for me.

When we got to that same incline, I studied my tire tracks. Under the innocent-looking snow was a layer of ice. Even my moon-boots slipped hopelessly once we started climbing, and I had to use the leaves at the edge for traction. Lucky Jack, he had claws.

As we continued to climb, I came to the second incline where the edge of the road drops off immediately and plunges over a cliff several stories down. My heart started pounding when I realized if my van had made it up the first incline, I’d have moved to the second one, the drop-off section of road where it was much icier. Had the van begun to slip there, I’d have gone backwards over the cliff for sure. I might have been able to jump out just before the car went over, but Jack would have gone with the car, which would have tumbled end over end and been totaled.

Jack and I walked to the edge of the cliff and looked down, recognizing God’s protective care by having me slip badly on the first incline, forcing us to take the car home. He’d saved us from driving to the second incline, preventing a serious mishap with possibly severe injuries and a ruined car. And my furry friend could easily have been lost.

By the time Jack and I got to the beach, I had goose bumps, partly from the cold, but mostly because of the realization God had literally saved me from disaster. Once again, he’d been the loving, take-action husband for me, just as he promised.

^“I will say to the Lord, ‘My refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust!’ For he will give his angels charge concerning you, to guard you in all your ways.” (Psalm 91:2,11)

I was tempted to do “Bedside Baptist” this morning or maybe “Naturch” outdoors. It would be my first time going to church alone, and it seemed like too much too soon. I thought about all my sermon CDs, and it was tempting to have church in my ‘jammies with coffee in hand. That sounded better than venturing out on a sub-freezing morning to an awkward situation at a relatively new church where I knew no one.

Standing with my mug in the living room trying to make up my mind, I noticed a red wooden cut-out that said, “Merry Christmas” in loopy cursive letters. The girls had opened several boxes of decorations last weekend, but nothing had come out of the boxes during the week. I wasn’t sure which decorations would fit at the cottage where we’ve never decorated before, but one thing I knew for sure: this Christmas wouldn’t be “merry”. I picked up the sign and carried it to the basement, burying it in another box.

At that point I decided church might be a good idea. Besides, I needed a positive answer if any of the kids asked, “How was church this morning?” What’s more, it’s the Christmas season, an important time to focus on Christ’s miraculous coming as our Savior.

As I was getting ready, I tried to remember the last time I’d been to church alone. The answer was, never. This would be a first. Suddenly, a great idea came to mind: take Jack. Dogs aren’t allowed in church, but he could be a car-pal and ride both directions with me.

I was a few minutes late to the service, and every aisle seat was taken. So I walked to the “gathering room” at the back of the sanctuary to listen to the service over speakers and watch everything through a plate glass window. One other lady was there, too, and we worshiped together from the comfort and safety of plush red couches.

Part of the service was communion. After an expository sermon about the birth of Jesus, it was fitting we share communion and a discussion about his death. After all, his death for all of our sins was the main reason he was born in the first place. Birth and death.

At our house we’ve been focused on birth and death, too, the birth of three new babies in the near future and the death of their grandfather. Of course our birth and death experiences are nothing like those of Jesus for quite a few reasons, paramount of which is that in his case, death couldn’t hold him. Against all odds, he came back to life three days later.

There is a link, though, between Nate and Jesus and their deaths. Because of Jesus’ death and resurrection, Nate was able to walk into heaven a month ago, a privilege unavailable to him without Christ’s atoning work. Jesus had forgiven Nate of all sin and covered him with his own perfection, which then made heaven possible.

These were the thoughts bouncing around in my head during today’s church service, amazing connections I would have missed, had I opted to stay home. In the car on the way back, I told Jack all about it.

^“Who dares accuse us, whom God has chosen for his own? No one—for God himself has given us right standing with himself. Who then will condemn us? No one—for Christ Jesus died for us and was raised to life for us, and he is sitting in the place of honor at God’s right hand, pleading for us. If God is for us, who can ever be against us?” (Romans 8:33-34, 31b)