A Simple Winter Morning

Right now the day is beautiful compared to what the area faced in the last 36-48 hours. Still cold, but the sun is bright and turning the snow and ice to a more manageable slush. Since I am not afforded the luxury of a garage and forced to park on the subdivision lot, I was out at 3:45 A.M. armed with a broom and ice scrapper, wearing my jeans over my flannel P.J bottom, two sweat shirts, my winter coat, jungle boots and a hat, since I heard that a hat keeps the body warmth in, but the only time I wear a hat is when I am hiking in the summer to protect me from the sun and heat, I prepared to exhume the car from it's wintry grave and make a feeble attempt to make it into work. I had missed the day before due to the icy road conditions and thought that if I skipped another, I just might be keen on making this a regular way of life.

While it was not all that difficult clearing the 8" of snow from the exterior of the car, the 8" of snow and ice surrounding the metal hulk would prove to be much more difficult to get the better of as I soon learned. I soon found that the "R" on the gear box, which I always considered short for "Reverse", actually meant sideways. How naive I have become. The engine struggled and the R.P.Ms raced as I rocked back and forth to free myself from the icy tomb. No luck and there the car sat on a 45 degree angle. Feeling cold and defeated, I went back to the apartment for a few more sips of hot coffee and another look at the Doppler radar hoping against all hopes that the band of precipitation was moving out of the viewing area forthwith.

My hopes were dashed when I returned outside to make a second attempt to free the iron horse. The snow, which was supposed to have subsided hours ago, had now actually picked up in intensity. I knew immediately that I was not going anywhere for awhile and might as well make the best of a bad situation.

My cat had reminded me earlier, while I sat with my coffee, rubbing against my legs as he does when hunger pangs hit, that the food level in his bowl was dangerously low. I discovered that the box of cat food was on "E" as in empty. As I stood there in the cold snowy darkness, I decided that a trek to the nearest convenience store was in order. Why not? I'll see what the streets look like. And so I began my urban hike through the mounds of snow winding my way through the subdivision up to the street on my half mile there, half mile back slog .

The street was empty except for one or two brave souls precariously navigating the icy roads. I walked in the street for the sidewalks were impassable or simply nonexistent. All was silent and the snowflakes held such beauty illuminated by the street lights. I walked the half mile there and half mile back in total awe of the works of the Creator. How the beauty of the snow, the serenity of the moment could transcend the inconvenience it caused. I was so wrapped up in thought, that I was at the store before I knew it. As luck would have it, the store was out of the food that my precious kitty craves and the only brand he will eat. So I made the return trip empty handed, but better off in my mind for the experience.

I think back to the times in my life when trivial inconveniences such as those endured this morning would have angered me and left me drowning in a pool of self-pity. But with each step I took this morning, I found my spirit growing stronger. A bad experience can become a growth opportunity. An opportunity to overcome our human frailties and historical failures and look only to the future.

Since I was dressed for the weather and pumped with adrenalin, I grabbed my broom and scrapper and walked over to my daughter's apartment. I knew it was not only important for her to make her way to work no matter what the conditions, but also imperative that she do so. There in the street sat her pride and joy - her new car covered with ice and snow. I went to work and soon it was the only car on the block not covered with the remnants of the storm.

She called to thank me. Two good things in one day. I'm on a roll