Guided by a Heavenly Voice

By Douglas Scott Clark, Maryville, Tennessee

As appeared in

Mom looked my brother Buddy Earl and me up and down as we sat at the breakfast table for our biscuits, eggs and bacon.

“Weatherman says it’s going to be another warm day,” she said. “But I ain’t so sure. It’s December. I’m thinking you two boys had better put on your heavy coats.”

Buddy shook his head no! As the older brother—sixth grade this year—it was up to me to bargain with Mom.

“We would be chided out of school if we wore our winter coats on a day like this,” I said. “How about if we just wear long-sleeved shirts?”

Mom sighed. “Just make sure they’re not those thin ones.”

I pulled on my heaviest shirt and tucked my cross inside it. It was a plain cross on a chain, a present from my grandmother, so I wore it every day.

Soon we were climbing into Dad’s 1948 Pontiac for a ride to the school bus stop three miles away.

The car rattled so much I never knew if it would make it all the way to the bus stop, much less get us back home when Dad picked us up after school. Today it got us to the bus on time.

My class had early recess. I was glad for that long-sleeved shirt when I got on the playground. Rolling dark clouds covered the sky and the wind sent raindrops down my neck.
The temperature must have dropped 10 degrees since breakfast. By mid-morning our classroom was an icebox and the rain had turned to snow, piling up on the windowsills.

Just before lunch our teacher made an announcement. “The heating system in the school has failed, so we’re cutting the day short.”

The kids cheered. The ones who lived close by gathered their things to walk home. Too bad I had to wait for my ride.

“Don’t think we have to worry about school tomorrow,” Buddy said as I slid into the seat beside him on the bus a while later.

“Nope,” I agreed. “Just how we’re going to get home today.”

Buddy wiped some moisture off the bus window to watch the flakes as we drove. “We can call Dad from that little grocery by the bus stop so he can come and get us.”

But all that snow had me worried. Buddy’s plan sounded too easy. Something had to go wrong.

When we got to our stop I found out what that something was. The little grocery store was closed. We couldn’t use the phone. We couldn’t go in for warmth.

“We have to walk,” I said. “If we stay here we’ll freeze.”

I wrapped my arms around my body, trying not to think about that winter coat I hadn’t wanted to carry, and set off down the road. The wind was whistling through the trees now.