January 3 – “Two years in a row”

So … It snowed.  Again.

I thought about leaving it at that for the day.  It is such an unusual occurrence for Galveston and all.  Snow.  Twice in one season.  Two years in a row (You’re supposed to chuckle at that comment.  It snowed just before Christmas of 2017 and now it snowed all the way here in 2018). 

I stayed up late to see it for myself this time.  And it made its appearance pretty late, too.  I guess it was around 10 p.m. (That’s right.  My bedtime), when Chris was getting ready for bed, that I stepped out onto the front porch on a whim.  I couldn’t hear anything, so I knew the sleet was gone, but then I felt it.  Just a bit at first, then unmistakably cold and wet.  Now it was dark, so I could really see anything.  So I returned to my desk and grabbed my trusty tiny flashlight provided at a wedding I did not too long ago.  Returning to my station on the porch, I flicked on the ILD (Instrument of Light Dispersion).  And there, to my surprise and wonderment, were actual snowflakes drifting down all around me.  I stood in awe for a good fifteen, twenty seconds before retreating into the warmth of our abode with a sigh.  A history-making event, yet no fanfare, no parade, no speeches.  Oh, Lauren did get her post up about the phenomenon, and I so appreciated not being the only one acknowledging such a monumental occurrence.  It just seemed such a shame …

This morning I awoke with a keen sense of anticipation.  What would the day bring?  Perhaps a snowman?  Snowball fight?  Snow angels?  Why, even the front page headlines spoke of the unusual cold streak afflicting the Island.  So even before my first cup of coffee I raced to the front door, threw it open and basked in the glory of … of … well, it was a beautiful day, with gorgeous blue skies.  And it was cold.  Oh, I had checked that on my phone’s weather app right after I woke up.  Still 30 degrees.  Perfect snow retention weather.  So I hastily opened the front door and stepped out into … into … well, let me put it this way.  It took some searching on my part, but I did find the snow that had so gloriously fallen around me short hours before.  It was accosting the windshield wipers on the car.  And it was adorning the bottom of each car window like a giant white crayon had splotched a jagged mark.  Not quite enough for a snowman.  I guess if I took the time I could have come up with one snowball.  And as for snow angels?  Not so much.  But it had snowed.  Twice now in one season.  Two years in a row.

Psalms 20:1 says, “May the Lord answer you when you are in distress; may the name of the God of Jacob protect you.”

Father, thank you for the beauty of a snowflake, even in the dark.  Amen.