When determination strikes a child of God, especially when it regards a responsibility that we take seriously, sometimes all common sense (by worldly standards) is disregarded. You have only one thing on your mind and that’s accomplishing your goal. When that happens, God may intervene (before we hurt ourselves), but sometimes He chooses to overshadow us with His protection and see us through the danger.
When Floyd transferred from RAF (Royal Air Force) Alconbury, England to Moody AFB in Georgia, the military transported our family back to the States. They flew us into New Jersey and we had about a week before Floyd had to report for duty at Moody AFB. The military would have arranged our transportation all the way to our new base, but Floyd wasn’t ready to head for Georgia. He wanted to run up to Michigan and pick up his Ford super cab pickup truck from a friend. Then we drove on to northern Wisconsin to collect his fifth-wheel trailer from his mom and dad. Hooking the camper to the back of his pickup, we headed for our new base down south.
Military service members in transit are required to be at their assigned duty sections by a certain day and time, or they are considered AWOL (Absent With Out Leave), and they can get in serious trouble. Well, we had just enough time to pick up his truck and trailer before heading down to Valdosta, Georgia. With time a factor, our little family turned south. Floyd’s truck had bench seats, so our 20-month old son was strapped in between us.
Listening to the radio, we knew that we were going to cross paths with a blizzard, so it was a race against time. If that blizzard hit us, we’d get stranded and Floyd wouldn’t report for duty at Moody on time. He’d be AWOL. And the military doesn’t make exceptions due to circumstances, especially when we had the option to be transported all the way to our base.
As we neared Chicago, between the wind, heavy snowfall, and drifting snow, travel became almost impossible. I tuned the radio into a Chicago station for weather updates and road closings. The snowfall was so heavy that drifting snow caused them to close the southbound freeway. Forced to exit the freeway in Chicago, we pulled into a truck stop.
Floyd said, “If anyone knows how to get through this, it’ll be a trucker.” So he sent me in to ask them which roads would take us south. But the truckers didn’t see a way. They told me, “You won’t get through. Find a motel and ride out the storm. It’ll probably be three or four days before you can get out.”
We didn’t have three or four days, so I bought a map of the Chicago area and we found a street heading south. Then we trusted Jesus to guide us through. It was like trying to get through a maze. We drove a couple miles before we ran into another road closure and had to exit. For a couple of hours, we zigzagged through Chicago streets in search of an open southbound road, and we stayed on it until it closed, all the while listening to the radio. They closed road after road right in front of us, each time forcing us to turn onto an east or westbound road.
Finally, we found a two-lane, southbound road that was still open. The snow drifting on that road was so bad that there was no more than a two-foot gap down the center of the road that was free of snow at any given time, and some of the drifts completely covered the road.
With no traffic due to the blizzard and drifting making it difficult to get through, Floyd drove down the middle of the road where the snow was the shallowest. Even then, the snow got so deep in spots that his pickup truck got stuck, but the weight of his fifth wheeler shoved us through, spraying snow out either direction. That happened time and time again.
As we passed through intersections, I read the street signs of the cross streets. Due to severe snow drifting, they again closed the road we were on. Only this time, as we listened to the radio, we heard that the road had been closed behind us. They closed that road at one intersection after another shortly after we had crossed it. We practically flew down that road to get out of Chicago before they closed the road in front of us. And as we hit each deep snowdrift in the road, the truck jerked to a stop and the trailer shoved it through. And behind us were a whole line of cars, following in our tracks as Floyd’s truck and trailer blazed a trail through each snowdrift. (That’s how we’re to be as Christians, leading others to Christ, blazing a trail through life’s deep snow drifts for others to follow.)
That little two-lane road took us right back to the Interstate. But when we finally reached the on-ramp, there sat a police car, blocking the entrance. We thought, Oh, no. Pulling alongside the patrol car, Floyd rolled down his window. The officer said, “Which way are you folks headed?” Floyd replied, “South.” The officer said, “Have a nice trip.”
It took us eight hours to go 100 miles, but with God’s help, we got through. With Jesus as our guide, and determination on our side, Floyd reported to Moody AFB on time.