Monday, January 10, 2011

Snow Day

“Are you ten years old or what?” my husband, Jerry, said when he finally rolled out of bed this morning.

“I am,” I said.

Who could sleep on a snow day? There’s so much to do.

First, I had to check on our new stray, the grey kitty, to see if her improved accommodations worked out for the night. They did. I was concerned the storage bin I’d made for her would collapse under the weight of so much snow, so I transferred her sleeping arrangements to an igloo cooler. She loved it, especially with Jerry’s old down ski vest for warmth and the Snuggle Safe I’d bought her. (Disks you heat in the microwave-- great for keeping outside animals warm on cold nights.)

Next, I had to feed the birds and try to keep the water going for them. Snow days bring out the birds in droves—birds I don’t see very often. Everyone’s been by today including a fat brown thrasher, gold finches, red bellied and downy woodpeckers, titmice galore, cardinals, wrens, and one squirrel that’s about to drive me crazy. Of course, I had to check in with my dad who lives north of here to see how his bird feeding is going, and I had to call my sister to see if we have as much snow as they do.

Lucy and I went for walk and greeted the snowmen builders along the way, and then came home to get our paws warm. After which, I put a snowball in her mouth and tried to get her to drop it in the beds of assorted sleeping family members. It’s also imperative I tune in to the weather channel periodically to see what’s next in the meteorological arena.

Of utmost importance-- a sweet girl we know is having surgery today, and I’m going online to a care site to watch for updates as we pray for her healing.

Besides all of this, snow days are great days for writing.

So, you can see how there’s no time for lazing around in the bed on a snow day. Jesus said, “…unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven (Matthew 18:3).” If I didn’t have a ten-year-old heart, the disappointments I’ve encountered in my life would make my heart ragged and bitter. The hard things would make me hard. And I don’t want to be that way. I want to have the heart of a child and still be able to see the wonder even when my heart aches.

If you live in the U.S., you’re probably under a blanket of white as well--most of the country is today. Have fun, and remember to be a ten year old.

More to this story:

Jerry kept finding things we were out of this afternoon, and I met every discovery with a way we’d make do with what we had. Then, I figured it out. He just wanted an excuse to get in his four-wheel drive vehicle and cruise around. He finally proclaimed, “We’re out of dog food.”

“Let’s go,” I said, as if Lucy wouldn’t have just loved to have a few table scraps.

As we trekked off to the grocery store crunching through the snow and ice, something hit me.

Jerry's not ten years of age; he's more like a sixteen-year old.

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