TUESDAY THOUGHTS: “HE SAYS TO THE SNOW, "FALL TO THE EARTH..." (Written 2/9/2010)

Snow has proven to be some mighty obedient stuff. 

It started, and seemed at one point to be laughing as it swirled and played in the air. It didn't seem as if it was ever going to stop. 

First, it just flirted with us, with its rainy, wet brand, and made us wonder if it would actually stick. 

Then, the super snowflakes started to fall, and stopped by the window to look in as if to say, "We're headed for the ground, and we plan to hang around for a while".

There's a lot of snow in, and around the Nation's Capitol. Recorded totals went from 17.4” to 34.8”, give or take a snowball. 

All I know, is that I stepped down, and was up to my knees in it. 

Yes. I ventured outside on the 7th, all bundled up and mismatched, just to see if the thing under the white mountain was actually our car. 

The sunshine did a great job of clearing the driver's side, otherwise, only a crew from CSI could have identified it. 

The city's wonderful snow plows added an extra two feet of height to the snow that had already fallen, as they passed to clear the street. 

Of course, no one could get to the street because of all the snow the plow piled up against their cars. 

When I finally found the passenger side door, it took a little more digging just to open it.

There we were, outside with various neighbors wielding everything from brooms, mops, dustpans, scrapers, spoons, spades, and actual shovels. 

Everyone, at some point, just stood, stared at it, and shook their heads. 

It was awe inspiring. 

You just didn't know where to start. 

Either that, or we were all waiting for our super-duper atomic snow-melting laser power to activate. 

It never did. 

So, up and down the street, we all started digging, and swinging, and slinging, and thanking God for anything that came off, or up, without a fight.

I just have one random question. What happened to global warming? Not that I ever bought a tee shirt or anything, and I'm probably the only person on Earth who didn't see "An Inconvenient Truth", but here, we're not seeing or feeling the effects--unless all of this snow IS an effect, and I need to do more research. 

I mean, aren't we on the globe?

 

I always feel a little uneasy when people start talking about God running out of stuff....And there is no warming--not here, anyway. David could have hurled one of those snowballs outside, and knocked out Goliath and his brothers.

 

Was it all hype? Was someone crunching the numbers with a Fisher Price calculator? Hey! It is snowy and cold in the Washington metropolitan area, and a friend just said it's snowing in Detroit. 

No. I'm not alarmed. 

Nature is just being it's usual obedient self, and we just need to get our popcorn (okay, maybe that's just me) and go sit down somewhere (unless we're on a list of essential employees). 

The Bible is clear about the seasons, the times and the sovereignty of God--and He is showing us all how suddenly our carefully made plans can be changed.

It's February. It's winter. It's the east coast. What should one expect? 

Well, the lovely weather people are forecasting another twelve inches, or so. 

Someone at the head of the school system, in the unpopular division where decisions are made concerning openings and closings, was either in Bermuda, in possession of the wrong egg nog, or obviously not looking outside on Sunday, when they first decided that the children of the District of Columbia were cold-repelling super heroes, and could, maybe, get to school by flying over the snow in their little capes and leotards. 

Perhaps someone took a tumble on an icy, non-existent sidewalk, or saw people walking in the middle of the street (as I have for the last 2 days), OR heard that the Federal Government was closed, and finally came to their senses. 

I just have to say, common sense is a wonderful thing, but wisdom is so much better. 

I saw grown men abandon their shovels. 

I saw a few broken shovels, too, so exactly how were little children supposed to get to school? 

Did the system also forget that a majority of its workforce lives outside of Washington, DC, in even snowier Maryland and Virginia, and would be at home with their own children? 

Enough of that. 

Besides, I don't remember school closing for anything when I was a little kid, and am wondering if it should have. 

I still have flashbacks of screaming like a nosy woman in a horror movie, while being dragged down icy Upsal Street hill by my sister and neighborhood friends. They were determined to help me get over my fear, by running down and then running back up and saying, "See? Come on!" 

When my feet wouldn't move, and my tears began to fall, someone grabbed my book bag while others grabbed my arms...To this day I cannot skate, and reserve ice for Ginger Ale, not pavement.

To me, the snow is simply beautiful---from the inside. 

I mean, it is stunning. 

The trees are wearing it like jewelry, and there's no lawn envy. Everyone's yard looks the same--clean, and white. The snow has brightened everything. I see true colors. The air smells clean, and it's quiet, except...
I woke up to the sound of shoveling which sounded a lot more like the sound of breaking concrete. 

The snow is heavy and hard. The tree limbs are loaded now. If I didn't know better, the trees on my street are re-enacting a scene from the Wizard of Oz, and throwing snow at people as they pass by--and laughing.

For the most part, it's been a very quiet day. 

I've cleaned the clean, cooked, eaten, taken the same path from room to room, looked out of the windows, and even watched a couple of episodes of The Andy Griffith Show on VHS. That's right. VHS. 

See what else the snow does? It makes you clean out closets and find stuff.

 

It's amazing how you can reorganize when you have nothing else to do, and nowhere to go. I have found places for things I couldn't find places for before. I've found books and tapes, and even a new box of oil pastels. 

I made some tuna salad, and I suddenly felt led to stop and thank God for a mother who was a brilliant educator--a working mom, but still taught me how to cook, clean, and do all of the other things which come in pretty handy when you're stuck inside. 

It's ironic that one of the Andy Griffith Show episodes told the story of anxious businessman, Malcolm Tucker, whose car broke down on a Sunday in Mayberry. By the end of the episode, he realized the importance of slowing down, and embracing and appreciating life's simpler things.

I think I might take a walk...I said, "might". 

I'm just trying to determine which direction would be most expedient, and less likely to have me blogging tomorrow about frostbite and skinned knees.