Christmas 2010, Illinois
I hate snow. Other than Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, I would prefer not to see any snowflakes descending.
It doesn't help that I now live in a place that can't handle snow. Less than 1.5 inches of snow turned Nashville into pandemonium this past Wednesday. My usual 7 minute drive home turned into 50 minutes. A friend's commute lasted 5 hours. Streets turned into parking lots. The snow compacted into ice, thanks to the slower than slow traffic. People abandoned their cars in favor of walking several miles.
All this for an amount of snow that Midwesterners find laughable. I mean, even I could handle that little bit.
My grudge spans decades now. Birthday parties ruined. Plans changed. Accidents. Difficulty driving in the Chicago-area accumulations. I was more than happy to leave that kind of winter behind me.
Except that Tennessee has experienced record-breaking snow this winter. Where is the lesson in this?
As I scraped my car off Thursday morning, my soul was muttering hatred. Once I brushed off the snow, I had to attack the icy layer that would prevent me from being at work on time.
Grumble, grumble, grumble.
My hands stayed busy as my eyes wandered to the dusting on top of the trunk. The sun's light drew my attention to the snow but in a whole new way.
Suddenly I could make out the features of individual snowflakes. Each one a unique and beautiful design.
I didn't stop scraping but I was stunned by what I saw.
How many snowfalls have I ignored the beauty because of my grievance?
How often do I bypass the wonder while I'm distracted by life or focused on my discomfort?
I don't want to miss these moments.