Sunday, April 5, 2009

Blizzards and Rainbows

You may have seen Denver's recent weather on the news. We've seen it on the news, too -- often more than we've seen it in real life. Here's the frustration and I expect it's no different than in any city: the weather guys predict a blizzard, we batten down the hatches, change our weekend plans (because it's almost always on the weekend), and prepare for the worst -- sometimes we actually do get a bit of a real blow, but most of the time we end up with just a bit of wind and a quarter inch of snow. They're like the boys who cry wolf, those weather guys. We don't blame them, of course; we know that God works in mysterious ways. So we've learned to take their dire warnings with a pinch of salt.

Which is sometimes good and sometimes not so good. You know what they say: prepare for the worst, hope for the best -- and don't get all bent out of shape if you dont' get what you hope for.

So, here in our neck of the woods, the Friday evening news was all about the big snowstorm that was coming. Advisories were posted all over the place: Blizzard Warning from midnight Friday until midnight Saturday. So, as usual, we checked our stores, made sure the animals were taken care of outside, and went to bed, skeptical. And sure enough, we woke up Saturday morning to a cloudy, windy, but snow-free day. Dan checked the weather at 6 am to check the advisories because we'd planned to go to Mass, but, regardless of the nonthreatening evidence right outside our windows, the blizzard warnings still flashed all over the weather sites, so we decided that discretion being the better part of valor, we ought to stay home. So we did that; we stayed home and waited for the blizzard.

We waited. And we waited.

And about 2:00 in the afternoon we decided it wasn't coming and we ought to salvage our Saturday plans. So, Michelle still not having an Easter dress, and me wanting my sister to help me remedy my two-tone hair with some Nice'n Easy, Shell and I bundled up and headed on into town. And, though it flurried off and on, and the wind was blowing pretty good, we saw no sign of a blizzard as we made it easily to Denver and traveled from store to store.

But, go figure -- about the time we were ready to head home, we got a call from my mom asking if we'd heard that I-70 had been closed and what were our plans for getting home.

You know that thing about our changeable Colorado weather ~ wait a while or walk a mile... Just because weather was fine in town didn't mean it was fine crossing the prairie back to our house. So Michelle and I got to spend the night at my sister's house last night. Which was fine. We had a great time! I got my hair done (Thanks, Nina!), and we got to watch one of her old vhs tapes from fifteen years ago when our Dominic was just a baby still ~ and in which I am made to feel suddenly very, very old...

But, then, there was a problem. When we came into town, we brought the minivan, so Dan, having no car seats, and not the space for all the children in his car (and not trusting the unreliable truck), needed me to come home and get them so the rest of the family wouldn't miss Mass. I-70 had opened, thankfully to local traffic by 6 am, so I made it easily home in time ~ to find out that Gabriel (4) had been throwing up this morning. So, I helped the little girls fix their hair, and stayed home with the two little boys.

And so begins my Palm Sunday: Prepared for the worst, thought we had the best (when the blizzard didn't materialize and we made it to town); found out we had the worst, made the best of it (when we couldn't get back home and got to spend the evening with my sister); thought we had the best (when the highway opened), found out it was worse (because Gabey is sick), and now making the best of it again (by having a semi-quiet morning to read and meditate).

As an aside: I keep finding "rainbows," these days. On my way east, back to our home, this morning, I got to watch the sun rise. Since the highway was closed to all but local traffic, I was the only one on the road. The sun was rising a big, hazy, pink ball, just visible through the thick blanket of clouds lying on the eastern horizon. I watched as it slowly made its way clear of the clouds, and when it finally did ~ it was spectacular! The ice storm yesterday had coated every blade of grass, every twig and every strand of fencing that borders the road, so that when the light of the morning sun touched it, the world looked like it was made of crystal. The light picked out every tiny point and the broad landscape, the miles of snow covered prairie, were tinged pink with the rising sun. It was glorious ~ so unexpected, and so fleeting! In only a matter of moments the sun had already melted the ice on almost everything and the pink haze turned white ~ and while it was still beautiful, the glory of it had gone ~ from view, anyway.

Most High, all-powerful, all-good Lord,
All praise is Yours, all glory, all honour and all blessings.
To you alone, Most High, do they belong,
and no mortal lips are worthy to pronounce Your Name.
Praised be You, my Lord, with all Your creatures,
especially Sir Brother Sun,
Who is the day through whom You give us light.
And he is beautiful and radiant with great splendour,
Of You Most High, he bears the likeness.

~ St. Francis of Assissi
Canticle of the Sun


GrandmaK said...

This doesn't surprise people who live there, just people who expect Spring to be daffodils and tulips. Colorado's don't bloom 'til May. Never got to wear my sandals until Mother's Day. Have a good week! Cathy

MightyMom said...

glad all was well. how's Gabey doing?