“Let’s scrape the snow off our boots and stomp a couple of times before we go in,” I coached the kids as we entered the coffee shop. I did not want to slip across the floor or leave big puddles of water under our table. Our walk across the snowy parking lot would have assured both events.

Most of all I wanted our little family to look civilized because we were entering foreign territory. We were about to camp out at a genuine truck stop.

We knew our January 1993 cross-country road trip to our nation’s capital was going to be an adventure. How could it not be with a Jeep, loaded to the brim with clothing, toys and three small children — ages 6, 4 and 1?

We also knew we would run into some foul weather. Maybe some wind, some snow and an occasional patch of black ice. We assumed it would be an extremely long, gray trek. But living on the East Coast was something we had never done. We would not let fear override a great opportunity.

We did not anticipate that fear and genuine concern for our family’s safety would become a part of our travel experience. But on day two of our anticipated seven-day trip, Utah weather forced us off the road and into the domain of the long hauler.

“I’m packing it in,” one trucker after another announced over his CB radio to anyone who would listen. And the responses told us that a whole lot were listening and questioning their own travel plans. Like us they were traveling with a deadline. And they had a valuable cargo. The thought of something dangerous happening was a sobering prospect.

Our greatest challenge involved assessing our situation without scaring the backseat passengers, especially the 6-year-old who was old enough to know that the weather was quickly becoming a problem. It began with snow; such huge amounts, in fact, and covering such a vast area that plow crews could not keep up. So on we drove, across a snow-covered highway with no lane distinctions.

Then came the wind, blowing with such force we learned for the first time what a genuine white out is like. We decreased our speed dramatically and broke into CB conversations to inquire about road conditions and closures up ahead.

Time and again cars that sped past us could be seen stuck head first in ditches. I mouthed quiet prayers at first and then uttered them out loud to give comfort to the little guys in the back˜as well as the big guy driving.

But when the visibility diminished further and it became apparent that some big rigger could easily miss seeing us and run us over, we set our sights for the nearest neoned truck stop. It was time to let the schedule go.

“Look here at these darlin‚ little ones,” a waitress cooed as we entered the coffee shop. “Good thing we’re here to take care of ya,” she continued as she grabbed some menus and steered us to a nearby table.

And care for us they did. Adversity had created a family atmosphere and a host of old truckers pulled up chairs, played with the kids and ventured out to their rigs to check their routing computers throughout the day.

I am forever grateful for that restaurant bunch and the long-hauler whose computer was able to identify a cleared road on which we could resume our trip. Their care and expertise gave us direction when we could not see our way down the road.

I cannot help but think back to that trip, taken nine Januarys ago, when I consider the approaching New Year. A private fear that there is an anonymous enemy out there in the world, with the will and the opportunity to create fear and havoc, leaves me wondering if there is another impending storm awaiting us in 2002.

But least we forget, God travels down the same road with us. And while He may not choose to take us out of the danger, He does promise to personally touch us in dramatic ways. And He reminds us to keep praying, interacting, and trusting Him.

So let us bypass those tired resolutions and pray our way through the New Year, instead:

Father God, Living Lord,

Stand by us this year, giving us wisdom, hope and strength, creativity, energy, and unity. May you daily be a light unto our paths, when the way is dark. And may you increase our joy when it is filled with sunshine. Amen.

Joan Bay Klope is a freelance writer and former editor of Christian books. Contact her at jbklope@hotmail.com.