God-appointment On an Icy Road

So early Sunday morning we're driving down the canyon from Estes Park on our way to church. The roads are covered with ice and we are driving with extreme caution. We pass Pole Hill Road, then the church up on the hill. Nobody's passing the slower cars because we're all the "slower cars" this morning.

We come around the bend and greet the first icy-canyon casualty: a truck, resting completely on its side, off the road. There are no people in or near the vehicle; the accident must've happened hours earlier. I feel so sorry for whoever was in that truck. Then I remark to Bruce that the two counties that control this road really should place regularly occurring call boxes up and down the canyon instead of just the one by the fire station in Pinewood.

How would you like to be stranded on this twenty-mile stretch of road in the night, or worse yet, the night in the dead of winter? Alone? Unprepared? And with a cell phone that's useless because there's no nearby tower to pick up your distress call.

As we get within a mile of Pinewood, we come around a corner and spy another car off the side of the road. This one appears to be parked; there's no one in the car. Was this another accident? Just as I'm thinking this, I see a woman walking brisky along the highway and put two and two together.
"Bruce, we have to find a place to turn around and help that woman."

When we finally get turned around and approach the woman, I roll down my window and I ask if we can take her to help. She speaks no English. I mean, nada. By her accent, Bruce thinks she's Korean so he tries out a phrase in that language and she nods her head and answers with more Korean. We manage by gestures, expressions and tones of voice to convey that we will take her to a phone.
She gets in our car. She's very upset and also very nervous. I think she thinks we're not to be trusted. We drive up to the fire station in Pinewood and get out to look for the call box.
The firestation is locked up, tight as a drum and we can't find the call box.
Just then I look up and see a man and a woman walking their two dogs about 75 yards away.
"Excuse me,"I call to them. "Do you live around here?"
The couple approaches rapidly and I wonder at how responsive they are.
When the man gets closer, he says, "I'm a firefighter. What happened?"
I explain the situation and he unlocks the station and ushers the Korean lady inside. He asks me a couple more questions about her car, if it's in the road, blocking traffic. I answer his questions.
That's the last I see of the Korean lady.
Bruce and I say thankyou to the firefighter, get back in our car and resume our commute down to Longmont.
We're a few minutes late for our rehearsal, but realize our agenda was just pre-empted by God.
Remember how I wrote in my last blog,
"I find that it's the appointments that I don't write down that are more important than the ones I do write down."
God is amazing.
How long would that Korean woman have had to walk to find help, speaking no English, alone, distressed, with a useless cell phone?
How did it just happen that Bruce knew the Korean phrase for "how are you?"
Good thing her accident happened so close to Pinewood.
And how "coincidental" that the firefighter and his wife just happened to be near the station at just the right time?
And why did I even ask that random couple for help?
The Lord was definitely looking out for that Korean woman.
And we were part of His plan to help her.
Amazing.
Another God-appointment.