Sunday. We were snowed in this morning – a happy thing. Eight inches isn’t much but it was enough for us to celebrate with bacon and eggs for breakfast and a stay by the fireplace. The plows came around by mid-morning but by then we were well into Sabbath rest and listening to a Keller sermon on patience which scratched at a number of weak spots in our life. (Like what a beast I turn into when annoyed by other drivers.)
The snow began yesterday afternoon with temperatures close to zero. We planned to attend a party in the evening. Until we were on our way and freaked out by almost getting mashed into guacamole by another car. Someone spun out right ahead of us and did at least five slow-mo fish tails, before coming to rest facing across the lanes with both rear wheels on the shoulder.
We felt lucky to stop in time and not have anyone rear-end us. Because the party was a good fifteen miles across the city, we decided to heck with this and turned back home. The first real snow of the season and people ought to know how to drive without killing self or others! A good thing we turned home, because there were others in trouble including a nice, new pickup lying on its side in the ditch. Which reminded me of the Dodge Ram ads featuring hunky men driving straight up a snowy mountain.
Winter storms with their danger and beauty fill me with nostalgia and happiness. We have so much to be thankful for: the warmth of home, the splendor of the snow-draped forest behind us, rabbit tracks over the drifts, comfort food and our married friendship. I am unworthy of such bounty, and yet, when do we ever deserve the goodness that makes our hearts glad?
