Finding Joy in (Mis)adventures

Things don’t always go as planned, do they? 

Last Thursday night, Chrissi, Erin and I loaded our snow-gear-clad selves into my trusty yellow XTerra for a bit of adventure. We thought we were going for a moonlit snow shoe in the mountains. But a twist of fate spun us into a bit more danger than we bargained for.

As we chatted and laughed our way up the Cascade Lakes Scenic Byway, the sky and roads were clear. We cruised past the Seventh Mountain Resort and conspired to soak in their hot tub later, after traipsing around in the snow. The bone-dry pavement took on a glossy sheen. Suddenly, the car hit ice. Like a slippery gold fish out of water, we slid across the road, weaving back and forth. I heard someone let out an expletive (it might have been me), and then an earnest plea, “Lord Jesus, help us!!!”

A few terrifying, semi-airborn moments later, we were up on a snow bank. My pulse pounded with adrenaline and my ears filled with that momentary swell of deafness that comes right after the crash.

Amazingly, all three of us were fine. The car suffered minimal damage. (The same can’t be said for the snow pole we demolished, may it rest in scrap yard peace.) Firmly wedged in place by an icy embrace, the car was going nowhere soon. A good Samaritan attempted to pull us free with his truck, but the towstrap snapped. So a quick mobile call to Consolidated Towing gave us assurance that help was on the way.

Now if I had been out there alone, or with perhaps any other humans on the planet, this evening would naturally have taken a somber turn. Stuck on the side of the road, in the mountains, at night, in the winter, freezing my butt off, waiting for a tow truck. Not your typical ingredients for a good time. 

But fortunately, I was with the Other Two, and they’re not your typical women. As I uncurled my fingers from a death grip on the steering wheel, they gently and humorously helped me move past the thought that I could have been responsible for the deaths of my best friends. Without missing a beat, they found the adventure in our undesirable circumstances.

Yes, that's the road about 18" below the rear wheel.

We stepped out of the cattywampus car onto the snow bank and surveyed the scene. Our tire tracks revealed that we had skidded on one tire for ten feet–meaning that three of the tires were airborn during that time, corresponding to our earlier sensation that the car had been about to start flipping before it (miraculously?) stuck it.

With a forty-minute wait for rescue, there was no hesitation to make the best of it and have a good time. The thermos of hot lentil soup, blanket, and even candles came out of the car and a picnic was set up on the snow away from the road. Laughter and teasing filled the air. We watched the moonrise, a giant orange orb lifting into the eastern sky. My Word of the Year is “Rejoice” and together we found the joy in our misadventure.

Every minute or two, a car would drive by and 27 out of 30 of them actually stopped or turned around to ask if we needed help. “We’re fine, thanks!” we shouted over and over. Our faith in our fellow man was bolstered. Our hands were warmed. And when we grew chilly sitting on the blanket, we ran sprints across the crunchy snow, joking that we didn’t need snowshoes any way.

An hour later as we sat in the hot tub, reheating our cores, reminiscing over past escapades, and talking about our journeys as women, I was reminded how amazing my sister-friends are. They are like the proverbial woman who is “clothed with strength and dignity; she can laugh at the days to come” (Proverbs 3:25).

Misadventure happens. And it’s not always pretty. But there is always an adventure hidden in there somewhere, if you look for it. Surrounding yourself with people who dare to find it helps.