I’m zipping through Montana on the Empire Builder, heading for a long-awaited visit with the kids and grandkids. All around me are a variety of people from all over, heading who-knows-where. I take that back. There are tags above the seats indicating the person’s destination, but that’s about all there is to know about these folks.

When riding on the train it’s pretty easy to remain anonymous. Nobody’s wearing name tags after all. Wait, I take that back. The Amtrak staff all have them. Including the lounge car attendant, Tom.

Now Tom isn’t shy about sharing his name. When he comes on the intercom, he announces, “This is Tom from the lounge car…” So there I was, in the lounge car, picking up a snack or two and I noticed his last name on his name tag. The ‘Vander’ jumped out at me and I thought, “Ja! A Dutchman!”

I come from a long line of Dutch folks. I live an area that crawling with Hollanders. As a matter of fact one of my people’s favorite pastimes is Dutch BINGO.

This is how it happens. Two Dutch people strike up a conversation and one comment leads to another and the two people find out they are related. BINGO!

For example… As it often does, the small West Michigan town of Borculo, predominantly peopled by Dutch folks, comes up in casual conversation.

“Borculo? I use to drive through Borculo,” you say.
“My cousin’s friend’s neighbor lived in town,” says your friend.
“Really?” you say. “The Essenbergs lived there on the main drag.”
“I went to college with an Essenberg.”
“Calvin College?”
“Yes! What dorm? …” and on an on until you figure out that you are somehow way-back related and attended the same family Christmas parties when you were kids!

That, my friend, is Dutch BINGO.

You can imagine my excitement when I read the name VanderVelde on Tom’s name tag. It’s rare indeed to find genuine Hollanders out here in the real world. So, on my next trip down to the lounge car … yep, you guessed it, I played the Amtrak version of Dutch BINGO.

Well, it turns out that Tom and I attended the same 4th of July picnics when we were kids! His aunt and my aunt were both aunts living just blocks apart in, you guessed it, Borculo! Where, I discovered, he spent several summers, while his parents provided entertainment on a Dutch cruise line. And where I cruised the streets on my bike trying to impress the Essenberg sisters. We laughed when we discovered we were in the same dorm at, you guessed it, Calvin College! Imagine that!

And imagine this. All it took to spin this t-a-l-l tale was a name on a nametag and a l-o-o-o-o-n-g train ride to the west coast. Today’s gift? Maybe… 😉

Right now I’m hurtling down train tracks slicing their way through the middle of New Mexico. The land is covered mostly with grass, and what trees there are sit a fair distance away. The rocky landscape punches through the thin soil from time to time exposing what’s below. On one side of the train the clouds are building and on the other there’s blue sky.

What I’m liking about my window view is the sky. Where I’m from in the Midwest, the long view is often obstructed by buildings and trees. But here I can see a long ways. I really have a pretty good view of what’s ahead.

I’m on my way to Rehoboth Christian School in Gallup, NM for a week of volunteering. Several months ago I signed on to this little adventure not really knowing what I was getting into. I know a little more today than I did then, but I don’t quite have a handle on the big picture yet. That’s a bit disconcerting for me not to know precisely what’s ahead, but I can do this. Just take it a day at a time.

As I write this the view out the window has changed. The clouds are moving in. The tops of the mountains in the distance are becoming obscured. Maybe there’s rain coming, or snow or just clouds. I don’t know. The view has changed. It’s become more difficult to see what’s ahead.

That’s how it goes, isn’t it? Sometimes we have a pretty good idea what’s coming in our family, work, retirement, kids, school. However, sometimes our vision gets dimmed by circumstances over which we have no control. We can’t see past the next doctor’s appointment, school exam, job crisis or life tragedy. That makes it hard. It’s hard to take things a day at a time. Hard to trust.

Whatever the view, whether I’m confident of knowing what’s ahead only for the next hour, or week or year, I need to remember that “… I belong body and soul to my faithful Savior Jesus Christ…” That’s the long view I need to have. That’s today’s reminder, and every day’s gift.

So you are probably wondering how that trip down to Elkhart went last night. You know, the trip to the train station. When traveling east by train from where I live, it makes a lot of sense to catch it in Elkhart. So, because I had to catch the train a bit after midnight, I made the drive last night. And how was the trip you ask?

Before I can catch you up on that, I need to explain a couple things meteorological.

First of all, there’s the polar vortex! Sounds ominous. In fact it’s a large mass of extremely cold air that right now is migrating from north to south over the Midwest bringing below zero temps. (BTW, where I am right now, on the train somewhere west of Buffalo, it looks like a raging blizzard outside while inside the car it feels like a balmy 90 degrees.) Anyway, the ‘vortex’ was moving in about when I was starting my trip south to Elkhart.

Second, the wind. Last night, driving to the train station, it was very windy. Really windy! Not just a random gust here and there, but a relentless, steady, push the car around at times, windy!

Third, lake effect snow happens when cold air (see polar vortex) moves across the relatively warmer Lake Michigan waters. The warmer water warms up the cold air and adds moisture. The warm, moist air rises. The water vapor condenses into clouds from which snow forms. The snow falls and you have lake effect snow. The wind sends it all inland.

With all that in mind, here’s my story. I started out earlier than normal due to the weather. The car thermometer settled in at 2 degrees. The roads were snow covered, it being so cold that the salt on them had no melting effect. On the highway the snow was blinding. It was a good thing I was familiar with road. It was tough to see past my headlights. I turned south where, according to the weather radar, I’d be driving out of the lake effect snow bands.

I kept a steady speed of of about 40 mph until I got behind the semi truck. I slowed the pace. I figured I could escape it’s snowy vortex when I got to Schoolcraft, the next town. Which I did. Ever so carefully I crept around it and two other vehicles over the ice packed passing lane.

South of town I was on my own, no one near me, front or back. Alone, in the dark, slipping between acres of empty farm fields, the wind buffeting the car. The snow from the fields kicked up by the wind, swooshed across the road, making small drifts for me to plow through. Visibility? Well, close your eyes. What do you see? Yep, that was about it until I reached that wooded area alongside the road. For awhile, all I could see was a cloud of white in my headlights and, of the road, the occasional glimpse of the white line, for only a few seconds at a time.

As I went farther south the snowfall decreased and by the state line the roads were pretty much dry, but for an occasional icy patch to keep me on my toes. At one point, I peeked out of the side window and was surprised by a cloudless sky, bright stars scattered to the horizon. I was struck by the fact that only a few miles north from where I was a serious weather event was playing out! I felt like I had just driven out of a violently shaken snow globe.

Other than the wind to contend with, the rest of the trip went well. It took longer than normal to get to the train station. The outside temperature had dropped a few more degrees to -4. The station was open when I got there, and for about a minute-and-a-half I was alone. Then the kid came in…. But that’s another story for another time.

All in all, I’m glad to have made the effort. After all, I have special people waiting for me at my destination. That will be later-today’s gift. Right now and last night’s gifts were safe travel and a starry night (and a kid who was helped. But that’s for another day.) And, working ahead, next Monday’s gift will be an ordinary rainy day for my drive home.