The light in the darkness

Christmas is half way over for me. That deserves some explanation. For more than 10 years, holidays have been split between my family and that of my fiancée/wife Louise. Occasionally in those years, several members of her family have been able to make it home for Thanksgiving, but not for Christmas.

This results in quite the heyday at my in-laws, with Thanksgiving celebrated on its regular fourth Thursday in November and Christmas the following Saturday. That still leaves time for that Black Friday shopping as well, though I bowed out of that a few years back for the much less strenuous job of managing a four-year-old, a six-year-old and other kids with varying ages, depending on who made it out to the house that year.

We also put a different spin on things this year, with the idea that many of the gifts be homemade rather than store-bought. Honestly I’ve never seen so many eyes light up as family unwrapped those hand crafted items, delighting more in custom printed shirts, crocheted hats, blankets and towel holders, hand-painted signs and quilted, fleece-lined blankets than in those gifts with bar codes.

I myself am now the proud owner of a “Kiss me, I’m Irish” shirt you won’t find easily online or on the rack.

That light, along with those around the tree, really helped bring everyone a bit closer together and added some much-needed warmth as a blizzard was settling in around us. But it wasn’t the only light in the dark this past weekend.

If you’ve travelled south of Wind River Canyon recently, you’ve probably met with the fog along the edges of Boysen State Park. Hard to see through even when the sun is high, when it’s setting driving into that bank is like instant night. And when the slick roads of the canyon are added in, it’s definitely a white-knuckle experience, but thankfully one that didn’t last long.

Out my window I finally spotted that guiding light I was looking for, shining bright red. I’ve always been more comfortable having someone to follow in hazardous road conditions, and I know I’m not the only one as one car quickly became two, then four, then eight, then I stopped counting and knew I and others were watching out for each other as we made our way to Thermopolis.

I appreciate and say a prayer for all those who have to make trips at night in these wintry conditions, whether it’s to run an errand or clear the roads, those lights are a beacon to help others know where to go and get them safely to their destinations.