From Disappointment, Hope Can Rise - 1975

I was a young registered nurse working in the Surgical ICU at General Hospital in Minneapolis. Life was moving quickly. Days passed fast and Christmas was rapidly approaching. During the holidays while working in health care, you need to be on top of negotiating your days off. At that time I was unmarried with no children so the pressure to work on Christmas Eve and day was significant. I agreed to work Christmas Eve but not Christmas day.

I am a preacher’s kid. The oldest of four girls. There are always expectations for preacher’s kids and more so, at Christmas. We knew the probable last minute roles that would be asked of us - nursery duties, passing out bulletins, lighting the candles both inside and outside the church. Filling in where necessary.  To go along with those duties, my fathers birthday is Christmas day. The poor man never had a birthday party! My father had all the demands of his churchly duties which usually included a few parishioner’s personal dramas due to the time of year.  While my mother handled all the holiday duties,  purchasing gifts, decorating our home, preparing meals, and managing four daughters' idiosyncrasies. There was a frenetic energy in our home.

Christmas day was the best choice for me to take off. Finally a day to relax and enjoy.  Thinking back, of course I would end up working that day. A few days before, a coworker with many children pleaded with me to take her shift. I agreed. It’s hard to turn down someone with young children on Christmas. I agreed knowing that the critical care unit was full and all staff were needed. Car accident victims, a stabbing, and a man who got really low during this time of year and tried to shoot himself were a few of my patients for the evening. To add to the normal stressors of working this unit on Christmas would be, of course, a northern snowstorm. Minneapolis snow is heavy. You don’t look out the window at an idyllic lightly covered yard with a cup of hot cocoa. You look out the window and try to see if your car is even visible or is only the antennae showing. That night, the storm was really coming down.

I lived downtown at the time and did not own a car. I took the bus everywhere, including to work. At the end of my shift, I took one of the last buses running.  As I stared out the window, I had a lot of thoughts and emotions and not all were positive. A lot of poor me, I’m going home to my dark apartment that I live in by myself. Just not feeling great. So I started what I hoped would be the one of those tried-and-true methods for shifting an attitude - you know the lines: how I had a good family. I had a home to go to on a cold night. I had food. I wasn’t in the hospital lying in critical condition. I needed to get a grip. I prayed for relief.  Please.  I had just finished a 3-11 PM shift and now I faced the Christmas day shift just hours away with needing to catch the 6:15 am bus.  I got home and immediately went to bed.

Waking begrudgingly and I peeked out the window. The storm had dumped mountains of snow and it was still falling. I layered up my clothes knowing I had to sit outside and wait for the bus. Thick mittens. Norwegian hat with attached pom. A scarf wrapped no less than five times around my neck. Outside, I quickly learned the snow drifts were above my boots.  I stood at the bus stop under a street light. It felt even earlier than usual and it was dark. No cars or buses on the street. I knew the night shift staff was anxiously awaiting my arrival, just as I would be if I were in their spot. I thought of walking the mile and half but with how deep the snow was it would take me too long.

Two headlights appeared down the road. The car was creeping slowly. I tried my luck and waved them down. Hopefully they will help me.  As the car approached, I started to make out the style. A long black Cadillac with fins over the brake lights. Fuzzy dice hanging from the rear view mirror. The music pulsed out. The driver slowed and as he rolled down the window, I could see he was wearing a fedora and sitting on pink lined seats. He had been working all night at a job I would rather not name. We stared at each other before he said, “well, Miss, do you need a ride?” I poured out a response, “Yes! I have to get to the hospital. I’m a nurse at General Hospital. I have to get there and the buses aren’t coming. People are waiting for me. Can you please help?” He told me to get in. He said him helping me would help others. We nodded at each other and he drove me straight to the front door entry.  When I opened the door, I looked back at him.  We paused, staring at each other.  He then quietly told me that he wished for my Christmas to go well.

Grateful and relieved. I felt that the most. I thanked him and thought about how the night before I prayed for relief. I asked for help. Help came that day for me, not in a way I would have predicted but help came all the same. 

-Lisa Fenton Free