I pray none of you planned to travel on the holiday. If you want to make God laugh, make plans. Evidently, Heaven was getting short on laughter. We all need to just stay home and let this pass. Along with the laughter comes lessons, if any of us become willing to learn them.
I love the Christmas music, but listening to the radio on the occasions when it decided to come in out here in the boonies, I became aware that most stations play the same old secular songs over and over. I got an ear worm for Frosty the Snowman, Jingle Bells, and Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer, but I longed to hear the old carols. Likely, someone decided to take offense at those, so secular is what we get, and I wonder how long before those go away also.
I’ll Be Home for Christmas, and No Place Like Home for the Holidays are all fine, but that’s not what Christmas means. Whoever decided to convert the holy Birth into a marketing scheme has created a plethora of failed expectations, caused people to take foolish chances against the elements, made helpers risk their lives for rescue, not to mention spend a lot of money. The young couple from Nazareth were far from home, but no one had told them they needed to be among relatives at that particular time of year.
Being snowed in gave us all a chance to realize that Christmas isn’t about presents that didn’t get delivered, people who didn’t show up to eat too much, or being overwhelmed with extra obligations. We were offered days on end of peace, a chance to pray for those who have less, had no heat, no presents, and no family, and to just sit by the fire and read, play board games, and get to know our immediate family again. Christmas dinner could be popcorn or pizza from the freezer, and it would still be Christmas.
Out here on the range, we had a front row seat on survival. On a day when we couldn’t see more than twenty feet, a forlorn coyote crept under the spruce tree by the house. Later on, a grouse sat about ten feet from that tree trying to decide if the space was still occupied, and whether it was worth his life to find out. Barn cats survived ok, but were too stressed to want social interaction when Bruce went to feed them. The ones that live under the wood rack on the deck disappeared, and I’m pretty sure were trapped by snowdrifts. When I cleared the porch drifts and uncovered their heated water dish, it took a shovel to break and pitch the ice out. It made me recall the many years of doing that for a thirty-foot stock tank while cattle stood waiting for a drink. A lot of prayers went up for anyone undertaking that job and for the livestock as well.
The main gift I got this Christmas was a reminder to pray for all who were without power and the people who work to keep it on, for the road crews, and ranchers, and to give thanks for our safety. And yes, for the fools who worried their kin by trying to get home for the holiday.