|Small College corner.|
I say this with apologies to our brethren and sisteren in the northeast, where the snow day and snow weekend have extended to snow week and snow month. That would be excessive, and I truly am sorry for the snowtastrophe that befallen you. (Befallen--get it?)
But here, as the filling in the nation's geographical sandwich, we have avoided the excess and (knock wood) have not had a single snow day all winter.
Until Saturday. That's when the snow moved into Small Town, with thumbnail-sized flakes piling up on trees and roofs. It snowed off and on all day (mostly on) and with freezing rain predicted during the night the church elders decided early that the congregation should stay home on Sunday morning.
In our family staying home from church is reserved for fevers of 101 and over, so sleeping in yesterday was like picking a spa day up off the sidewalk. I did my Bible study in my worn-out chenille robe as I sipped a giant cappuccino, and took all the time I wanted to absorb the words and the warmth.
Then it was the New York Times crossword puzzle, touching up the paint in the new office, finishing a couple of knitting projects, and starting a new Netflix series (Foyle's War), all without the guilt that usually accompanies this kind of nonproductive activity.
This morning as I walked around the block, the first person to put footprints into the snow that had not needed to be shoveled during the snow weekend, I apologized to God for missing His meeting yesterday. I'm pretty sure He was okay with it, though.
After all, He sent the snow, and the day of rest.