This past weekend Mother Nature reminded me… “it is still winter.”
I was enthralled with the beauty of the crocuses, Easter flowers, and the yellow bells in bloom, but snow came and brought the artic cold down our way. I suppose a lot of folks, like me, were disappointed when the snow started falling. I didn’t want the cold to aggravate my aching bones and joints, or disrupt any of my weekend plans. But deep down, I knew somewhere out there a child, a young person, or a wonder-filled adult was thrilled and prayed for more.
I remember those days, watching Channel 3 and the Tennessee weatherman giving us hope for snow overnight. I would find it hard to sleep and occasionally I’d get out of bed to peek out the window. Of course I couldn’t see anything, the plastic wrap Daddy had put across the outside of the window for insulation made everything a blur.
On the blessed mornings when the weatherman was right, Momma would make us get dressed for school anyhow just in case the bus showed up. By 8 o’clock we knew it wasn’t coming and the hooping and hollering began. Nothing like a snow day! My brother, two sisters, and I would put on all the warm clothes we could to the point where we could barely move. We didn’t have snow boots so Momma made do by sliding empty Merita bread bags over our shoes and securing the top of the plastic to our socks with freezer tape. Many times we didn’t have gloves so socks and bread bags covered our hands as well. This method worked just as good as any North Face product ever made. We played all day.
So when I look out across the snow-laden landscape, I feel ashamed that I was disappointed. Somewhere someone is having the thrill, the joy, and the opportunity to create a memory that will warm their heart for an entire lifetime. How dare I not feel overjoyed by the snow.
