Snowbound

It's all my fault. I've been complaining that we didn't have any snow. Sure, we've had a bit here and there, but not the real snow we should have by now. I love snow. Growing up in Kentucky, the snow never stayed on the ground for long. You had to relish it on fast-forward, because the temperature would rise quickly, melting your snow forts and crushing your dreams of just one more day off from school.

I like a sea of white. Messy and sometimes difficult of course, but there's potential for peace in snow. A hush. An anticipation. Man goes through most days in control of his environment. What doesn't come naturally we create artificially. On our schedule. At our convenience.

But a snowstorm is more than we can harness. It causes us to slow down. Our cars. Our footsteps. Our plans.

I liked watching Hilary today. Since she doesn't really grasp the whole concept of time, she had forgotten what this much snow was like. She wasn't sure what to make of the deep piles. Should she step in? Would it swallow her up? Abominable snow children are one of my favorite sights.


It took her a few attempts. A few awkward tries and a mountain of reassurance, but she eventually embraced the snow. Then there was no getting her out of it.



This is the view from my back window. Don't be fooled. We're not in the woods. There's a major road on the other side of that tree. But I can dream and watch from my window. From there I can imagine that I'm in the forest with no distractions. Just me and my prayer.



Do you ever have days where you rush from anthill to anthill, and then all of the sudden...BAM!...you see the sky as if for the first time? How did I not notice the crispness of that blue today? How did I not appreciate the depth of those clouds? Why do I spend so much time looking down when I could be looking up?

Barely anyone showed up for Vespers tonight. Since there weren't many singers, and definitely no sopranos!, we made it more a service for the readers. I felt like we were in the monastery. The chanting carrying me along on a wave of peace. The stillness outside permeated the inside. As if the whole world finally looked up. As if everyone finally realized it was time to stop and pray. Anything can happen in the snow.