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Every year, as the Christmas season rolls around again, I feel impelled to dig into my archives, to see what might deserve saying a second time.
This column goes back to 2005.
I was driving from Kamloops back to Kelowna, normally less than a two-hour drive. A storm had coated the highway with ice. It took me over an hour just to get to the turnoff that led south towards Kelowna.
Just before the turnoff, the road tilted left. I could feel my car slipping sideways on the ice as I crept around yet another accident. Even the cop directing traffic couldn’t keep his feet under him.
Then, as I was about to accelerate gently ahead, I heard a tap at my passenger window. A pale, waiflike face peered in at me, bundled in a woolen scarf.
“Could you give me a ride?” she asked. “It’s real cold out here.”
I don’t usually pick up hitchhikers, but these seemed to be exceptional circumstances. “Hop in,” I said.
Categories: Soft Edges
Tags: Mary, hitchhiker, Magnificat