Snow in Columbia again! I saw it in the wee hours of the morning, my backyard lighted up by moonlight shining on the white sparkly blanket covering everything. The sight did not deter me in the least regarding my plans for the approaching day—worship and hanging out with a friend who is under the weather (couldn’t resist that cliché). So, I got right up when the alarm sounded, despite grogginess from the eating, drinking merriment of Christmas. Yesterday was filled with fun and wonder with special guests and family including three grandsons, ages 1 ½, 3 ½ and 5 ½, a recipe for adorable cuteness (okay, yes, and a few other moments, too). Anyway, the celebration had taken its toll, but I was, nevertheless, on track.
The track began to curve when I glanced out the window to see snow still coming down. Settled with my coffee at the computer, I serendipitously found energy for working on Sunday by Sunday III for a bit. The harder I worked, the heavier the snow seemed to fall. There were few cars on the road, and whispers began circulating in my brain about staying home.
But, then an e-mail from church announced that the “show was on; don’t be scared off by the weather.” Remembering how special it is when there is a small congregation of the faithful few, I wanted to be there. Plus, the gospel lesson included the slaying of the holy innocents. I’m always curious, if not desperate, to hear what good purpose that horrendous story can serve for the building up of faith.
So, I watched the clock to make sure I left in plenty of time—and started worrying about road conditions. To check on that, I found my boots and winter wraps and ventured out. I headed into the park next door, an icy breeze blowing large tufts of snow into my face. I opened my mouth, hoping to catch a few, and thought of our pup Scout seeing her first snow years ago. At first, she was startled and suspicious, but was soon leaping in the air, snapping at the clusters of flakes. Fond memory.
In the park, a couple was sledding and a guy was taking pictures. The only other person I saw walking was dressed in a parka and sipping a beverage out of a plastic bag from Li’l Cricket Gas and Convenience. Making the circle to head home, I turned around a few times to peer down Main Street through the snow and wintry grayness to see if I could spot the state capital. I could, barely; that was cool. There was little traffic, but, as I expected, roads were perfectly clear; there was no reason not to go. Except that now, getting back to my warm house and holing up seemed like the ideal thing to do. This is South Carolina, after all, and any amount of snow is an acceptable excuse for canceling anything, so…
So, here I sit writing, feeling very cozy and rather wimpy—and utterly forgiven for acts of wimpiness and sins of omission and comission. In a few minutes, I’ll heat up leftovers I brought home last night—the richest mashed potatoes you can imagine, broccoli and red peppers with Kalimata olives and feta, stuffed mushrooms. Oh my, oh yum. And now, off to two (of many) lovely sabbath activities that await: a call to Mom and the Sunday paper. Amen!