snow day.

Snow falling, endlessly. 24 hours of white coming from the sky. Roads covered. Buses stranded. We walk down the middle of the road because sidewalks are impassable, but no matter- cars aren’t fighting for the road today. Cabin fever. Snow days are great, but too many lead to restlessness. As if this time of year wasn’t restless enough. Winter drags on; at least snow beautifies what might otherwise be an unbearable month.

In the city, snow brings camaraderie. Neighbors help each other shovel, or comment on the storm simply because we’ve both managed to show our face outside. Jaer’s corner grocery store is still open; we go in and out for necessities. I went just for cravings- coffee for me, and chocolate pudding for my sister.

In a moment of adventurous spirit, we bundled up and set out for the art museum- landmark whose steps are ascended constantly by tourists to our great city. Today, the ascent was only for the natives. From around the neighborhood we all came, with snowboards, plastic sleds, cardboard boxes, lids to the garbage can, even an air mattress- whatever might aid us in flying down the smoothed-over surface of those famous stairs that rocky climbed. Somehow, we are all friends here- laughing at the same goof-offs, helping each other with a push down the hill, snapping a photo for a fellow memory-gatherer.

I had to work, and I couldn’t concentrate inside. Bundled up, I set out for the nearest coffee shop, the flying saucer, at 26th and brown. On a normal day I wouldn’t blink at the distance; today the trek seemed monumental. I shook myself off before entering the small corner shop, barely bigger than my kitchen. It was crowded, and wet. Puddles gathered under tables where boots and coats dripped; the windows were fogged up. Laptops garnished almost every table- I wasn’t the only one who couldn’t concentrate at home. With my cup of chai and croissant, I set to work, soon to be distracted by the banter around me. It seemed that everyone else at the shop knew each other, and were carrying on one gigantic conversation in between whatever “work” they were accomplishing. “who wants to go sledding?” “does anyone know anyone who even has a sled?” “where’s jess? Shouldn’t she be here?” “hey, are you guys going to come to the german society party next weekend?” “how about we go back to my house for curry after we sled?” “hey adrien, can I get another cup of coffee?” finally, I had to ask. “um… do you guys all know each other from somewhere else, or just from coming here so often?” the sheepish answer from my table-mate was that they were all coffee-shop addicts. I had stumbled on a true local hangout, and felt quite out of place. I quietly continued my work, but took my headphones out of my ears, so as to appear interested in what was happening around me. maybe if I keep going often enough, I can become part of the gang. But, well… I don’t know if I really want to be part of that gang. I’ve got enough circles of my own to keep up with…

After sledding, we plopped down in an open spot on the art museum lawn, leaving our marks as snow angels. The lamp above us as we flapped our wings reminded me of narnia. So we came home, ate dinner, and turned on the movie. As my thoughts have turned often to death and to heaven in recent weeks, it hit me differently this time. (I suppose a great story does just that- its many layers continue to unravel the more you interact with it.) my tendency is to focus on the final victory; on aslan’s intervention and power, while ignoring the difficult battle that precedes the happy ending. Christians spend a lot of time and energy speculating about how the world will end, and how our King will re-take his throne. My attention was drawn this time to the battle that is required to gain that final victory. The good guys aren’t sitting on the hills watching aslan fight single-handedly. Rather, they’re in the thick of it; and for half the time, they’re in it without even seeing that their King is helping them. What battles am I being asked to fight right now? And what is yet to come?

As far as I can tell, my next battle will be with the snow drift piled against my front door in the morning. The wind continues to howl; car wheels spin outside our door. I’d better rest up.