Angel, Second Class


Sunday mornings are anything but easy here. It is the only day I look in the mirror after the tub. I try to dress like a girl instead of my usual yoga pants and brown, black or gray shirt. I do more than a mom knot in my hair and I wear a bit of make up. I make breakfast and get out clothes for the boys…and try to find socks that match. Try. I get mostly ready early and then spend the rest of the time like an orchestra conductor getting boys to wash their “hands and faces and secret places,” iron a shirt for the hubs, convince the baby to finish his nasty business and get us out the door on time.


This past Sunday was even more hectic than usual. I found myself in my bathroom with the hubs and baby in the tub and the bigger boys in the shower. I was a little grumpy. This is usually my 3 minutes of peace to get ready and it was NUTS, steamy and nuts and my hair doesn’t curl anyway and I had to wipe away steam to put on my eyeliner…


We get into the car and I am grumpy. We are 7 minutes late leaving. I am in the back seat with the baby who is fighting the car seat in the winter coat. It is cold. 0. cold. I am doing my checklist in my head. Diaper, wipes–check. Coats–check. Clean hands and faces…and we started to spin.


We are on a 2 lane county hwy. 20 ft limestone rock wall on one side. 50 foot steep drop on the other. Milk trucks, farm equipment, and traffic at 55 mph. We hit a patch of black ice.  We are spinning. The Hubs is trying to regain control. It seems like forever. We slide dangerously close to the rock wall. We start to tip. I am looking at my precious cargo and I am bracing for the worst.


We come to rest on the edge of the steep hill, staring up at the roadway we just left, now 10 feet above us. The car’s rear end buried in deep snow. We are all shaken but unharmed. How? Mercy and a Miracle. We have no cell service. A snowplow soon stops and calls us in. We wait. Our 5-year-old tells us our next car should be a tow-truck, maybe he is right.


20 cars drove by. None stopped. We waited for some help to arrive. After 45 min stuck in a cold car buried backwards in a snowbank…a woman stopped to help. The hubs and I hoisted the boys onto the icy highway. I pulled myself up a barbwire fence and crawled up the snow. There in her little car was Rose Mohlmann, age 81. She jumped out of her warm car to wrangle the baby. She sprinted across the road, tried to pick up Monster Baby and decided to walk him across instead. We piled into her warm little car–it was heaven!


Rose lives in Dodgeville but still travels to the country to go to her little country church. That is where she had been. She was pleasant and chatty. She had no idea I was thanking God for her. I was sure her brightly colored coat was there to conceal her wings.  She drove us all home and offered to take the hubs back to get the car from the tow-truck, she is headed back to Dodgeville anyhow, she says. I race in the house to get some cash from my stash in the cookie jar to give Rose for her time, gas and trouble.


She delivered the Hubs to his car in Dodgeville and would not take a dime for her trouble. She helped us all that day in a real, simple, selfless way. The Hubs went to Jonesdale (a tiny town were she was from) and talked to her family there. We got her info and we are gonna bless her back! I don’t know how you repay someone for giving you warmth, safety and security…but we are going to try.


I wonder how many times I overlook people who need a bit of help. I know sometimes I talk myself out of it because of fear. Well, if a sweet 81-year-old lady can brave the freezing cold to help my family and I…anyone can! I can’t believe none of us were hurt on Sunday. I can’t imagine how close we came. I can’t bring myself to think about how my life could have changed in an instant. I am thankful for the wake up call and the chance to live. The chance to remember it’s a wonderful life I have.


Happy New Year everyone. Thanks for listening and….


Sincerely, Sara

4 thoughts on “Angel, Second Class

  1. Pingback: A December To Remember | thesisterslice

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