CRANBROOK, British Columbia — It looked as though we were in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Stretched out ahead of us was a line of stopped cars that rounded a bend in the road, disappearing from sight. No vehicles were coming or going on this two-lane highway.
I groaned inwardly. If only my husband and I had left town earlier. If only we hadn’t stopped at Starbucks in Sandpoint, Idaho. If only I hadn’t insisted on eating our two crispy green apples at a picnic spot before crossing the Canadian border.
If only. Now, our trip to Banff, Alberta, was at a dead stop.
“I think I’ll get out and stretch,” I said to Bill as I peered through the raindrops on the windshield. “And maybe even walk ahead to see what’s holding us up.”
He assured me that if the traffic started moving, then he could just pull over on the shoulder and pick me up.
So off I hiked in my rain gear. The sound of a nearby creek and the refreshing air greeted me along the roadway.
Anything would be better than sitting another minute in traffic.
But when I rounded the corner, the sight took my breath away. A head-on collision had occurred only a short time earlier.
In the middle of the road sat a compact coupe, its engine sheared from what remained of the car. Uniformed medics quietly attended the young woman behind the wheel, while another rescue team struggled to extricate her what was left of the car.
On the opposite side of the highway, a crumpled pick-up truck sat in a grassy gully. Its dazed driver stood nearby as his passenger was pried from the wreckage.
Two ambulances waited silently in the gentle rain.
As I turned to leave the distressing scene, I began to pray — a prayer that would continue until our Jeep finally moved.
And while the prayers lifted Heavenward hour after hour, a thought crossed my mind.
Perhaps, I was in the right place at the right time.