Trena Eiden

Gar had bundled parcels all week to go south to escape winter. When Samaritan’s Purse called to tell him to pack for work in Kentucky, he had to uncrate and repack because Kentucky gets snow and Lake Jackson, Texas, gets “not snow,” which is what Gar lives for.

Here we were on a Saturday, driving in Gar’s truck to the closest town with an airport. It was chilly, but I had on a heavy cardigan and knee-high boots. I was toasty, until I realized I’d forgotten a coat.

In the vehicle I take to work every day, I carry blankets, an extra parka, three pairs of mittens, a neck warmer, hat and scarf, adding to this exact winter regalia I wear. I’ve lived through Wyoming winters since the day I emerged from my mother’s 98.6 degree womb, yet I forgot a coat … in January. Think low IQ.

It was minus 13 at 5 a.m. when we trundled by the hotel desk clerk. He smiled brightly, said it was too early for breakfast but offered a to-go bag which Gar — who doesn’t like to put anyone out — waved off with a kind “thanks, but I’m OK.” I ignored his ridiculous niceness and said we’d be delighted to take him up on the offer. I wasn’t so gung-ho when I looked in the sacks. 

The Barbie doll-sized yogurt and fruit cup were doable. Then there were those pastries that taste like cardboard, but have frosting, so Gar loves them. Ish. The granola bar tasted like what I’m guessing a hemp welcome mat might, if it had three chocolate chips woven in. As our youngest grandbaby says, “No fwanks.”

For Gar, that sugary Danish was the highlight of his day because thereafter it all went south. As he checked in, his TSA Precheck wasn’t on his boarding pass. Since the lines of people stretched as far as the eye could see, he chose to forgo asking for it fixed. He had to take off his jacket and shoes. Man, he hates that.

He was able to board the plane, but takeoff was delayed because too many people got on with oversized bags. They made them de-plane, recheck and board again. Then the plane went through de-icing.

Gar was looking at his watch. He only had an hour in Denver to make the Nashville connection. About this time, the plane developed an ailment. The pilot hummed and hawed so Jesus laid hands on it and it was fixed; Jesus is decisive. It was then announced that Denver was socked in with bad weather.

After waiting an hour, the conditions resolved, so back to the de-icing pad they went. Gar finally took off and by some Christmas miracle he made his connection in Denver, even after having to take the transit to change terminals. A sweet gentleman in a courtesy buggy was waiting as he exited the train and Gar asked for a ride. I do this sort of thing, but he never does. I’m rubbing off on him; I’m so proud. 

I’d waited at the airport till he left, then got a message that there was a truck wreck in the canyon and I couldn’t get by for a couple hours. I considered my circumstances and since I didn’t fall off the turnip truck yesterday, I went back to the hotel and had a hot breakfast and coffee. She might forget her coat, but she never forgets to eat. How do you think she keeps those chubby cheeks-on both ends? 

As I pulled up in front of our house, Gar texted. He’d made it to Nashville, but his luggage didn’t. He got to the Avis counter and it was closed. A note said to pick up his vehicle in the garage and, after having to summon rental associates twice, he got a car. His luggage came in a few hours later, he met the guy working with him and they drove to Kentucky. 

And me? I felt great. I’d had a hearty breakfast, remember? I moved vehicles around the yard, and as I backed up the Suburban, watching I didn’t hit the pickup, I tapped the basketball pole with the side mirror — buckling it.

Go for a little stroll in your imagination about what I said next. In my best holy voice I begged, “Jesus, please make that mirror the kind that pops right back into place” … and it did. You thought I’d cuss. Me too! But even I can’t beg and cuss at the same time — and I’m an expert at both.