The Freezer Light Still Worked is a Route 66 story about finding quiet resilience in unexpected places, even when life feels half-empty.
Some days stretch long and flat, like the road outside Kingman, sun-baked and stuck in place. That was me, pulled off the highway into an old roadside market, the kind with creaky wood steps and a screen door that slams like punctuation.
I wasn’t really hungry. Just restless. I wandered the aisles like maybe clarity was shelved somewhere between the canned peaches and expired sunscreen.
This little shop in Kingman has seen its share of stories, and I probably never would’ve stopped if it weren’t for my good friend Jim Hinckley, whose podcast Coffee With Jim has become a roadside institution of its own. He’s the kind of voice that makes you appreciate the corners of these towns, the history, the dust, and the people who stayed.
Opening the Freezer
In the back, I opened the freezer. It was nearly empty — a half-melted bag of ice and a couple of faded popsicles. But the moment I opened the door, the light blinked on. Soft. Automatic. Unbothered.
And for some reason, that small moment hit me right in the heart.
The Light Still Worked
Lately, life’s felt a little like that freezer, emptied by circumstances I didn’t choose, chilled by things I can’t control. But the light still worked. Still flicked on. Still showed up when the door opened.
That quiet resilience… it said more than any sermon.
✨ Roadside Reflection – The Freezer Light Still Worked
Hope doesn’t always come roaring in. Sometimes it hums behind a freezer door, waiting to be noticed.
If your light still shines in quiet moments — when things crack open, when something shifts — that’s not small. That’s holy.
Keep showing up. Even half-empty, your light still matters.
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More about Route 66: History of U.S. Route 66.