Storm Reflections

Last Saturday morning, I sat down at my kitchen table and shared that I was crying. I was looking out at about five feet of snow piled against my front windows, snow that had fallen off the roof of my home since the storms started Tuesday. The roads around us had been plowed by the county, but ours hadn’t been. I watched people on the main road just above me, driving in and out of town without any problem. I was starting to despair that I would ever be able to leave my house again.

A little dramatic, I know.

That was the morning. But then my new neighbor texted and said he would be coming to town the next day and would be happy to help tow my car out of the snow. Feeling a tiny bit of hope for the first time in days, I ventured out for a walk with Biscuit and came across another neighbor with a tractor who said he would help plow me out. Just as I walked up the street to thank my neighbor, who had arrived with his tractor and had already cleared a path from the main road to my car, a truck from the county arrived, and an official said that the rest of the road would be plowed later that afternoon. Possibly the county worker was a little surprised when I reached out and gave him a hug; I was that grateful.

A few hours later, my road was plowed.

The storm came—and the storm passed.

Today, it is Saturday morning, and I am at my kitchen table again, looking out the same window. The temperature might get close to 70 degrees today. It feels like spring—stunning how fast it changed. My neighbor’s lawn, which was covered in snow last week, is green and lush. I feared the flowering quince would have been pummeled by the weight of the snow, but it bounced back and is beautiful. I am amazed that there are still daffodils blooming. I was afraid that the snow and subfreezing temperatures would have finished them, which was why I picked as many as I could before the weather rolled in—but apparently daffodils are stronger than I thought.

Maybe I am too, because I also made it through the week. I missed work and was housebound, but I managed to bring in firewood through the snow, pulled out my snowshoes, and shoveled paths through the snow as best I could. When the power went out, I heated water for tea in small ceramic ramekins on the woodstove, loaded my freezer and refrigerated food into ice chests, stored them in the snow, and didn’t lose anything I had purchased at Costco a few days earlier. I took care of my pets. I took care of myself, too.

Here is something that I want to remember from the storms that came last week: things change, and sometimes they change quickly. Moments when I’m near despair are only moments; they don’t last forever. It might seem like the snow will never stop and my road will never get plowed—but that’s not the end of the story. The snow melted, and the sun came out again.

I believe and trust that everything works for good in the end, and I’m called to do my part to help make it happen. That means putting on my snowshoes and picking up my snow shovel when that’s needed—and putting on my marching shoes and picking up my protest sign when the time is right for that. And always, to work for justice, love kindness, walk humbly, and trust that Julian of Norwich was right when she said, “All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well.”

On snowy days. On sunny days. Even on this day, when President Trump, the “self-declared peace president,” went to war with Iran and later attended a fancy fund-raising dinner. Especially on this day.

May it be so.