About Angels...

On the day before Thanksgiving, we were on our way to our family celebration when everything changed in an instant.

Outside of Quincy, WA, I hit ice.
The car slid diagonally into the median dip and scraped along the cable barrier with a sound so loud it felt like the world was splitting apart. I somehow kept us upright and got the car back onto the road—where it came to a dead stop in the middle of the lane. All the airbags deployed. Miraculously, nothing inside the car was damaged, including my cello.

It was dark and snowing hard.

Almost immediately, a young woman appeared at my door. She looked me directly in the eyes—steady, calm—and helped me breathe through the shock. She ushered us into her warm car where her kind companion welcomed us - and then placed her little dog in Jim’s lap. She grounded us - helped me push back the fear and panic, assured us that all would be OK - and made sure we were checked by the EMTs.

Then came more angels.

A Washington State Patrol officer, Officer Dawson-Cooney, she was kind and patient and immediately set up safety precautions.
A tow truck driver, Paul, owner of Quincy Towing, who not only recovered our car but drove us to the Quincy Holiday Inn Express—just across the freeway—and he and Officer Dawson-Cooney helped us unload our things into the hotel.
Jordan, the desk clerk, carried our bags and quietly handed us drink tickets.
The bartender took it from there, generous with her pours and insistent that our food be more than enough.

We later learned there had been five accidents in that same stretch within 24 hours, and two more the next morning.

Our daughter and her boyfriend were driving through the next day and came to get us. Since then, we’ve been tucked in with our family - safe, warm, and surrounded by love and care.

Friends and family have checked in with messages of comfort and reassurance. I’m sore and still rattled, but otherwise okay. Jim has declared himself bulletproof.

I don’t believe there are accidents. Not really.
The crash was terrifying, but it felt like something more—
a collision with the truth that none of us move through this life alone.

People often say, “It was just an accident.”
But I’m not sure accidents are just anything.

Every person who stepped in that day felt placed with a precision that feels an awful lot like grace:
the young woman who steadied my breath,
the little dog curled in Jim’s lap,
Officer Dawson-Cooney’s patience,
Paul from Quincy Towing guiding us to safety,
Jordan at the hotel preparing a soft landing,
the bartender making sure we were fed and warm.

Accidents may break objects,
but reminders have a way of mending us—
mending our attention, our priorities,
our faith in one another.

Yes, the car is totaled - but we are not.
It could have been so much worse...

Moments like this are reminders—
the kind we never ask for,
but the kind that reorient us.

They remind us to slow down.
To pay attention.
To value each other.

To notice the helpers who appear out of nowhere
and reshape a terrifying moment into a survivable one.

They remind us that gratitude isn’t an annual ritual.
That kindness is still a reflex in this world.
That grace often comes disguised as strangers on snowy highways.

And that our vulnerability becomes unmistakably clear
when everything else is stripped away - and we are held by the angels we can see and the ones we cannot.

-Julia

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