A little girl and the weather

Tis a rule, man's a fool,

When its hot he wants it cool,

When its cool, he wants it hot,

What it is, he wants it not.

My grandma told me this poem when I was a little girl. Now, every time someone tells me dismally that "it’s going to snow again this weekend, I am so sick of snow!" I think of this little diddy. Of course, not wanting to be a fool myself, I NEVER wanted the season to change when I was little. If ever such a thought entered my mind, I would dismiss it immediately, shuddering at my near miss of being whatever a fool was! As you can imagine, I took my grandma very seriously.

But this past winter, I found myself for the first time honestly not wanting the season to change.  I was longing for the snow to fall and cover our little townhouse. I loved the summer with its hot pavement, flip flops and the energy of the city around us; and then the fall, the trees with their stately autumn robes were reminiscent of old monks lined up next to the huge old polish catholic church across the street. But I longed to curl up in our little apartment and listen to the wind howl outside and see the snow sparkle from my kitchen window while I cooked. I feared I was being a fool, longing for the winter, but now that it is slipping away, my heart can’t help but mourn its passing. It was a wonderful first winter with my new husband and I still find myself rejoicing when the Lord allows a late snowfall to dust the sidewalks.

Thank You, Lord, for a cold gray season that makes the love and blessings that you’ve given us burn so bright and warm in contrast.