My dad rapped three decades before its time, but all in expletives. Changing the clutch plate on your family car in the snow means you’re short on doe. I held the flashlight until my hands went numb. Dad’s gloves went on and off until shortly before the sun arose and the car worked and so did dad.

I spent a week in the windy snow that night. Dad would light another cigarette, swear a bit, then slide under again on cardboard. A few jaunts into the house. A few hot chocolates and Falls City beers. More smokes and swear words. Then more hot chocolate and coffee—and we’re talking that cheap lame Chock Full O’ Nuts. But some how, the night passed and we survived another poor man’s crises.

The snow on the roof and frosted windows branded those of us in rental houses. We likely burned an extra oil field just warming the cars in the morning. I wondered how many teens had to get up during bitter Indiana nights to make sure the portable heat lamp was still burning beneath the hood. Or how many had to start the car every hour? How many stacked bales of straw around their foundations? How many put blankets over their upstairs doorways and moved everyone downstairs to save heat bills? How many had to ride frigid buses for an hour every morning?

But we made it. Well, most of us. My Buck Creek neighbors made it. Most didn’t get through high school and only a few managed college. Some how the cold winters passed. A few are still sliding on cardboard in the middle of winter nights. A few still are finding themselves.

The amazing thing is that we survive. Regardless of our challenges, the cold passes and we live to another season. I suppose the biggest difference is some learn the reason. Some find a purpose and a path to reach goals. Some never look.

The next time you see an old car piled with snow, think through your blessings, the simple benefit of a garage.

What signs remind you of blessings in your life?