When the snow comes, and the cars begin to get stuck, a gift is given to those of us here in Minnesota.

The gift, at first, appears to be the strangers who come to lend a hand, those helping to push a snowed-in vehicle out onto the plowed roadway.

That's not the gift.

The gift is the vehicle getting stuck in the first place. It's a gift given to the many out there yearning to be of some kind of service, longing to be asked to help in some fashion.

When a person is pushing a stranger's car free from a deep snow drift, in that moment, he or she has a purpose. The act is pure. When someone, in a tough spot, needs a hand, those nearby are called to act without ambiguity, no muddled or conflicting feelings. Helping another person in a time of need offers simple, sweet fulfillment. It is the gift those stuck in the snow give the rest of us.

It's my sense these days that people all over are longing to serve. They don't want to be helped as much as they want to help others, to be shown a direction. Find a just cause, publicize it, then stand back, people will come from far and wide to play a role, to lend a hand. But folks need to see how exactly they're needed, and what specifically will change or improve with their involvement. That's the trick.

And that's the beauty of a car stuck in the snow. It's a problem so clearly defined, with a solution so easy to see, aid so welcome and so appreciated. In the seconds following the pushing of some vehicle from a snow drift, the driver heading off down the road, and those who pushed the car free, have the identical feeling: A soft, warm, inner light glows momentarily, and they feel the quiet joy of being alive.

To all of you without four-wheel drive, to those of you who failed to get snow tires this season, we are all indebted to you.
        

Posted by TD Mischke
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