SNOW DAYS [T, 2-16-21

CHRIST IN WINTER: Reflections on Faith & Life for the Years of Winter

SNOW DAYS [T, 2-16-21

 

Well, if there were ever a time to write a blog for “the years of winter,” this is it. 70% of the US is covered with snow, and temperatures are hitting new lows.

Snow days, though, are different in this pandemic time. Most kids are already doing classes virtually, as are their teachers. No one gets a snow day. People who work from home just keep working. No one gets a snow day. That’s sad.

I loved snow days. Not the ones I got for myself, but the ones I got by extension when my children were snowed out of school.

We lived in Hoopeston, IL in the late 1970s, when our daughters were teenagers. Those were the years of the big blizzards and the low temps. At least, we thought they were big and low then. This week’s artic blast, and winter storm Uri, may make the snow totals and low temps of the ‘70s look mild, but they are not such in memory.

It was so cold that the energy company asked us to call off worship services. We didn’t want to do that completely, so, since the Methodists had the largest sanctuary, we invited the other churches to worship with us, with leadership by all the pastors. The Presbyterians and Disciples and Missouri Synod Lutherans and Church of God [Anderson, IN variety] took us up on it. The more conservative congregations were gracious in their refusal to worship with infidels, but they got the idea and went together at the Southern Baptist Church.

There was a good result from that bad time, with our fellow pastors and congregations feeling more at ease with one another, ready to do more things together. In fact, when the Lutherans had a fire, we offered to share our building with them. We had such a large education wing that we could accommodate all their Sunday School classes at the same time as our own, and then as we worshipped in the sanctuary, they worshipped in the fellowship hall. It was sad when their building was ready for them to return, because it was fun to have such a full house on Sunday morning.

The best thing, though, was what it did for our family. I was busy. Helen was working at the local newspaper. Our daughters were deeply involved in all the things high school students do. In regular weather, we saw one another only in passing. On snow days, though, we did stuff together. Predictable stuff, like working jigsaw puzzles, but stuff we undoubtedly should not have done. But we were young and…

There was a cut-rate grocery store about 3 blocks from us. Its name, Grab It Here, gives you an indication of its ambiance and its clientele. We did not usually shop there. But in the midst of a blizzard, one of those with winds so strong they blow you over, we ran out of hot chocolate mix, or marshmallows, or cookies, or maybe all of those. The streets were too bad to drive, but we roped ourselves together and walked down to grab it there at Grab It Here.

With snow in the foots high, we would jump in the car—just a sedate preacher sedan, no four-wheel drive or anything like that—and wheel down to Champaign, fifty miles away, to go to the mall. Once, on IL highway 49, I think it was, we came to a 9 foot high snow bank. The truck had been plowing the snow, and it got so high that apparently it had just turned around and gone home, leaving this huge bank of snow blocking the highway. So we turned around, too, and took an alternate route to the mall. 

Too late to scold us for being so foolhardy. Besides, I wouldn’t pay any attention to you. I sit here on my sofa, drinking hot chocolate from mix that we got in last October in anticipation of snow days, but if I run out, I’ll be walking down to the 7/11 three blocks away, even if the wind chill is 20 below and the snow is knee deep. That’s what snow days are for.

John Robert McFarland