While the snow falls...

A view of our barn from the bedroom window.

How many times did I lament that I was just too busy?

Well, God was listening.

For the fourth day in two weeks, we were snowed in...

“It takes an open mind and a ready heart to appreciate winter in New England,” said Gladys Taber, who wrote from her seventeenth-century farmhouse in Connecticut. “The wind blows, the snow piles deep, the car gets stuck, and pipes freeze.”

The first snow day I carried on like I was still at the office. There were so many important tasks to tick off the list. I called staff, joined a webinar, studied a new website and researched my next writing assignment.

Switching gears, I spent the second snow day as the cleaning lady. I vacuumed, dusted, reorganized the linen closet, made a pot of Boston baked beans, rearranged drawers and cleaned out the refrigerator.

The third snow day I vacuumed and vacillated, logged into another webinar and dusted the house again, did our taxes and scrubbed the bathroom floor.

“Actually we need winter, even February, which can be the worst month of all in New England,” said Taber. “We need to tighten our belts and shovel the paths, thaw the pipes…, pile the logs on the fire. Subconsciously, I think we need the discipline of the long dark cold.”

But the fourth snow day I stopped in my tracks.

Gazing out the window, I watched snow sift down like flour, painting every surface sparkling white.

“There is a strangeness about a winter morning when the temperature is zero or below,” said Taber. “Day begins with a pale glimmer along the horizon beyond the lacings of the dark branches.”

I watched a wren tucked into our rhododendron bush, where she sought shelter from the snowfall. She looked straight at me, and our eyes locked.

“It’s okay to wait out the storm and just enjoy your surroundings,” she seemed to say.

I unplugged from my cell phone and laptop… I sat in silence for a long time with our little dog cuddled in my lap…  I heard a gaggle of wild turkeys in the woods... I put a pot roast in a cast iron pot and let it simmer... I listened to music... I began knitting a prayer shawl … I read “Sacred Fire” by Ron Rolheiser for hours…

It can stop snowing, Lord.  I finally got it.