This is why Alaska is NOT for me

Those of you who know me well know that I hate driving in the winter. My Dad, bless his heart, insisted upon chauffeuring me around in the winter when I was in high school and even college. He'd drive to campus and take me places. I never fought him very hard because I was so scared of snow and ice. But now I wish I'd have insisted a little more that I learn to drive on this stuff, because here I am now, a full grown adult, and I still hate snow and ice. And even more than my own disdain of driving on it...I'm always worried I'll wipe out someone ELSE with my own stupidity and lack of ability. So when it gets really bad, I stay home.

Sunday morning, I woke up about 5:30 - which is normally a good reason to just flop over in bed and go back to sleep for 2 more hours - but I remembered that we had a snow forecast, so I got up just to see if there was snow. No snow. WOO HOO!!!! I flopped back into bed and slept until about 8. Got up - SNOW. Everywhere. About four inches of it. Might as well be four feet, where I'm concerned.

I decided to at least start getting ready for church and see how things progressed. I was still in my jammies, with one half of my hair straightened and the other half sticking straight up in a clip (reminiscient of Boo in Monsters Inc.) when my doorbell rang. No one ever rings my doorbell - ESPECIALLY at 8:30 on a Sunday morning. It was my Dad. No, he had not come to take me to church. He was on HIS way to sing at an early church service and had stopped to use my phone to call Mom to warn her the roads hadn't been touched. As he left, he said to me, "They're bad, if you want to stay home."

Let me just say - when Dad gives permission to skip church - those must be some nasty old roads.

Even with his blessing, though, I could not feel good about missing church. I knew if it were a work day, the idea of skipping wouldn't even be considered. If I could make it to work, I could make it to church. Besides...I had to get out sometime to return movies - and if I could do that - I had better get to church. Turning in my tithe was more valuable than acquiring a late fee.

I'd just worked up my nerve to go when I heard a last chorus of a song from my Dad's radio program, which was playing downstairs..."But just think of stepping on shore and finding it Heaven." GREAT. Why did he have to play THAT one today?

Even so, I climbed in the car and began my own rousing rendition of Jesus, Take the Wheel - and I meant every word. I got as far as Wal Mart and said, "I can't do this. I just can't." So I pulled into Wal-Mart to turn around, but they hadn't cleared their lot yet. So I slid and bounced all around my turn-around attempt and as I sat by the road, waiting to pull out, I said, "Well if I can do that, I can drive on the road." So I got back on the path and drove like a 90 year old woman all the way to church. I prayed for green lights and no cars. I got most of my wishes.

But boy - what a meltdown when I got to church! I walked straight to the bathroom and started bawling. One of our pastors even told his wife to give me a hug because he thought I could use one.

THIS is why, despite the number of men living in Alaska, I cannot move there. If I uproot at all, it's going to have to be to the south.