Schools are closed again today. Even long-time New Englander’s are beginning to complain about the white stuff. A headline in the Boston Globe reports ‘city officials’ as saying ‘Enough is Enough.’ Apparently this is not true. Enough is not enough.
Here at the Temple, our parking lot is growing smaller with each successive snowfall – the snow banks higher and thicker. Soon we’ll have a walled parking lot – maybe it will become a secret garden – we’ll keep it a private place that only certain people can find their way into. And perhaps inside, the season will change – the falling snow will become a soft mist that the morning sun will burn off. And we’ll all take our jackets off – though we won’t let anyone know. We’ll take off our jackets and maybe even our shirts – to dance slowly in the warm sun. We’ll dance with the sweet currents of energy. Sometimes we’ll even fly – become birds and fly though the sky with a wild freedom. Ahhhhh – that’s better.
But this morning, there is freedom and grace of snow shoveling and snow blowing to be done. Bundle up, start the engine, make a lot of noise and do some real work. As I head out, I hear the voice of a friend’s father – now confined to bed and near death. He was sorry to be lying in bed, was sad to not be out shoveling. So I remember to be grateful for this body that still has the energy and strength to rise out of bed and to go play outside, I’ll get my morning exercise clearing moving the white stuff from here to there.