God’s grace: a helpful stranger

A snowy landscape

The unexpected snow storm

In the endless winter season—especially where I live in Hamilton, Ontario—it’s not uncommon or unheard of for people to sit inside the house and forget about the world outside.

That same nameless but rigid mood weighed me down as I woke up recently.

On that fateful morning, I glanced casually outside through my frosted window and saw pure white: a warm neighbourhood, normally mild at this time of the winter, blanketed in snow. 

It was a salient snowfall, punctuated by soft echoes of cars out on the street.

Mounds upon mounds of snow engulfed entire sidewalks, driveways, and front-yards like I had never witnessed before!

I could feel and smell the cold from inside, through the small cracks in the windowpanes.

Somehow, I lapsed into a long period of house arrest:

For a week, I awoke each day and peered through the window, hoping the snow had melted.

Without fail, I would leave feeling even more languorous, and wondering why I had looked in the first place.

Cue ignoring every outdoor work…

No wonder I put off shovelling, even though I needed to.

My brother, normally nonchalant on snowy days, naturally expressed disappointment when I told him I couldn’t do it.

I could see the misshapen outline of his car, now puffed-up in a heap of snow, which sat deep in the snow-covered driveway.

But for some strange reason, I became stubborn: 

“If I really wanted to shovel, I could shovel all the snow in Hamilton!”

That was my stubborn but passionate declaration.

In that precise moment, I came to terms with the fact that I was in deep trouble.

I was sincerely afraid to go outside.

But to my great pleasure, my brother soon summoned the stamina to shovel the driveway, giving me a brief sense of relief.

In the weeks that followed, however, all I could think of was how badly my natural rhythm had spiralled out of control—how I was losing out big time by not exercising, and how I was really going to regret it. 

Strangely, these same thoughts pushed me back to the gym, eventually.

It was as surreal as it seams!

A new kind of problem

Once again, however, I had a pressing problem.

I did not have my car in the driveway, because I had parked it at a gas station five minutes away from my house.

Further, I also knew that my car was covered in snow, since my sister had seen it and sent me a photograph (while she traveled along).

No problem, I thought!

After a bit of discussion with my brother, I decided I’d grab the house snow shovel and head toward my car.

I would drive to the gym afterward.

And so, I lifted the shovel and waddled through the snowy sidewalks, all the way to my car.

(This was quite humbling but refreshing to do.)

The snow spectacle!

Upon reaching my car, my knees nearly buckled at the sight of the snow.

Like a snow avalanche had fallen!

Though I had seen the photograph of the car, and therefore had visualized the situation, it immediately struck me that I really hadn’t the slightest clue:

I nearly quit but chose to work smartly instead.

I decided to clear only the essential snow.

That’s what really got me started.

It turns out, I couldn’t have predicted it—clearing the snow was the easy part.

For fifteen minutes, I shovelled vigorously, often catching the attention of onlookers.

Perhaps, it could be because everyone was sympathetic or kindhearted.

I’d had the misfortune of my car—a scratch-free 2010 Ford Fusion sedan—being the only one inundated by snow.

Mine was the only car buried under a truckload of snow.

The good samaritan

One gentleman in the group—an octogenarian and a good samaritan—jumped in to help:

“Do you know about rocking?” The gentleman asked, as he approached me closely.

“No. I’ve never heard of that,” I replied hesitantly.

Interestingly, the octogenarian had already scanned my car and sensed that I needed help!

He was a calm and collected Canadian gentleman, who had “Canadian tricks” to show and teach me about.

That’s how we began to mess around together in order to free the car from the ice.

To be clear, rocking the car was highly intuitive.

It involved only one process:

Moving the car forward and in reverse, alternatingly.

The key was to do it carefully—how carefully?

That was the gnarly challenge!

His emphasis was to prevent the tires from sliding and squealing, or the car from jerking and hitting.

He had mastered the technique down to a science.

Though, it must be noted: sometimes, even the most careful attention to a particular detail can fall extremely short.

That’s why when our experiments failed, the Canadian gentleman had another trick to reveal:

The floor mat method!

The floor mat method

Initially counterintuitive, the floor mat method worked miracles that evening.

How did the man know about it?

I guess he was really just that experienced.

Simply put, in the floor mat method, the car’s floor mats work to provide traction for the car tires.

And in the end, this was the technique that finally rescued my car out of the ditch within a few seconds.

In that very evening, my heart swelled with immense pleasure, gratitude, and melancholy!

A storm of melancholy!

That evening, as I drove back from the gym, I was lost in thought.

I couldn’t stop my thoughts from circling back to that moment.

That Canadian gentleman, Kelvin, had clasped my hands, and even said:

“May God bless you.”

That candid gesture and message strengthened my faith in spirituality.

And yet, even though I tried, in the end I suppressed a nudging instinct to assure him that I was spiritual also, to assure him that:

“I know that I am blessed.”

Obviously, the level of gratitude I expressed in front of Kelvin was unbounded, but even now, I regret not responding to his faith in kind.

That simple act could’ve been the divine saving grace needed to create wonders for him, just as he had done in my favour.

Conclusion

I pray to God that He may bless Kelvin and all of you gentle helpers who have graced my life.