days of snow.


Here's the thing. Snow days in middle Georgia can't top the snow days of Millersburg, Michigan as a child. Harsh reality. But the last three days have been really nice, not gonna lie, Internet, I've loved it.

Snow days in northern Michigan were the closest thing to heaven in the winter. First thing, my dad would be rarin' to go (what is rarin'? anyone else have a grandpa who uses words you've never seen in a book?), and he'd hustle us out of bed and into layers of snow gear. (Whenever I smell wet wool, I think of those mornings.) Living in the middle of nowhere meant my family had the pick of whatever solitary hike we felt like. When we lived on Lake Nettie, we'd hike up into the steep hills over looking the east side of the lake. We'd drag along a sled and the steep hill leading down to the lake was perfect for sledding. It would usually be snowing and the huge flakes would drift down around us and no matter how much noise the three children and two dogs would make, it was still quiet. And we learned to be quiet in the woods, looking for deer and rabbits and maybe a fox. We'd hike for miles, sledding down the hills, and exploring the woods around the lake. Then we'd hike back across the frozen lake, keeping an eye out for soft patches of ice near the swampy edges. We'd get home and strip off wet layers while Mom would cook huge breakfasts that'd we devour before dropping onto the couch in exhaustion.

Snow days in Macon Georgia aren't nearly as nostalgic or heavenly. But these last few days there have been walks in the inch of snow and crust of ice. One walk with cousins took us through the urban fixtures of residential streets, a bridge supporting the Interstate, and fast food restaurants. People stared at us, as if we were crazy to be venturing out in the below freezing temperatures. But it was beautiful, and then we ate breakfast and it got even more beautiful. I fall in love with things rather easily, and I have loved breakfast for quite awhile now. There is nothing quite so wonderful as a big breakfast after a long hike in the snow. We ate eggs and sausage and cinnamon rolls. And coffee, oh.my.word. I've written poems about coffee. It's that good. (Don't worry, I won't share the poems.) There's also been a significant amount of napping. Good, good things that go back to God when you follow the thin threads.

Thank You Lord of all good,
for snow days, unexpected and undeserved,
for family when you really need it,
for grey knit hats confiscated from students who don't come back for them,
for chai tea lattes, the rich dark taste of my life right now,
for time to not grade papers,
for decaf coffee reminding me that life is full of good adventures.
for writing days in coffee shops to remember. reflect, renew.
for friends on phones to dream with.
Amen. Our Lord is faithful. Praise the Lord.

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