Snowpocalypse

It’s the snowpocalypse.

People are doing some weird things around here. Myself included, which is how I found awake at 6:30 tip toeing around my home in an attempt to make a pre-dawn run to the store.  Because I didn’t want to turn on the light, my make-up routine was a reverse color by number affair where I removed make-up from places it shouldn’t be.  I removed excess eyeliner from underneath my eyes, leaving enough behind to look as if I had some on.  I didn’t apply any fresh make up you understand, as my pride doesn’t wake up until at least 7:30.   I was worried about losing power due to an ominous weather forecast.  My solution was to go to the hardware store at 6:30 am looking for fire logs.  Last time we dipped into the teen temperatures was a couple of years ago when my furnace died.  For twelve days our family huddled together in an epic blanket fort while our home plummeted into the low 40’s.  It was then I learned the joys of a fireplace in order to stay warm.  Our family has filed that experience under Polar Vortex from Hell 2017 but we won’t go there right now.  Right now we are on the snowpocalypse.

Back to the Hardware store.

Traditionally, women do not go to building supply stores at 6:30 am: call me sexist if you like but it’s true.  Except for the very nice blond lady with unusual glasses behind the till, there was nary a female in sight.  But there I was, in my sweat pants, my daughter’s knee high boots and homemade hat looking frightfully unstylish as men in overalls, with shaved heads and unshaved faces marched to and fro as if they knew what they were doing; which they did.  My pattern of movement followed that of a Roomba, wandering aimlessly bumping into objects while looking intentional: which I wasn’t.  Mostly I was lost.  I walked up to the nearest employee and asked if he had any fire logs.  He looked at me and grunted in the direction of the front door.  “All we have left is out there.”  “Thank you,” I sang back, because I thought he was rude and headed for the front door.  Looking at the sad display of logs I decided against buying any.  They were the type that generally put out my fires instead of starting them.  Do you know the kind?  They aren’t covered in paper that you can light.  They are made from an incombustible form of saw dust.  I suspect they were invented by a troll that hates humans. 

I made my way back to the almost empty parking lot.  My next stop was the grocery store and I knew that was going to be unpleasant.  People in my part of the world seem to do two things before a cultural or weather event: they either shop for meat or barbeque meat.  As I didn’t expect anyone was firing up their bbq’s at 7:00 am I figured I would meet them at Fred’s.  Pulling into the parking lot, I checked my list and steeled my nerve.   “Batteries, lighters, fire logs…” reciting the list to myself I dashed for the warmth of the store as a goth looking 20 something unlocked the front door.  Resuming my Roomba reconnaissance pattern, I aimed for the outdoors section.  A teenage-ish looking fellow crossed my path somewhere near the discount table filled with vile smelling candles no one was stupid enough to pay full price for (since when did candles become $10.00 I ask you?).  “Fire logs! Do you have any left?” I didn’t bother saying good morning to him because it felt like we both already understood it wasn’t.  “You know…” he looked heavenward “we found 4 boxes hiding in the back late last night.”  He paused again as if recalling a time long passed, “I know they put them out but I don’t know where.  They might be gone though.” 

“Any idea what area exactly?” I prompted him in the way I thought his mother might.

“Well…out on the floor sort of that way I think.”  My young scholar pointed to the entire store.  I had a few words with his mother in my head before I responded. “Thank you.” I sang and walked off before I said anything I’d regret.

I checked all the displays in the isles gathering items as I went but was unable to find the elusive fire logs.  I wasn’t surprised.  It was (after all) the snowpocalypse; by the end of the day many of the stores in the area would have empty shelves.  Changing my wandering to a more efficient isle-by-isle pattern, I quickly side stepped shoppers as more people entered the store.  It was approaching 7:30 and my pride was pointing out that my attire was as ridiculous as my make-up job.  In truth I was losing focus, the lines at the checkout were starting and the pace was getting hectic.  For reasons I can’t explain I bought 2 containers of ice cream and a package of hot dogs.  Why?  No clue. It was time to leave, if I didn’t have it, we could do without.  Marching toward the check-out I saw a little man walk by with a green box of fire logs on his shoulder.  “You have logs!” I screamed at the startled fellow.  “Where did you get them?” I lowered my voice and smiled trying to look more normal.  He looked at me warily, “They are down this way.”  “Excellent!” I shouted enthusiastically.  “I’m following you!”  He looked at me as if to say something and then thought the better of it.  Nodding his head he started marching toward a display.  “There.” He pointed to 3 boxes under a table and ran away quickly before I made any more unreasonable demands.  “Thank you!” I sang because it was what I did.  Two boxes of logs were loaded into my cart; the fourth would make someone very happy.

It took forever to get checked out of the store but I didn’t mind.  A toasty fire was mine to be had and the thought warmed me all the way home.  My phone quacked as I parked my car at the top of the street.  The text read where are you? My family had discovered I was missing as I walked in the door and dumped grocery bags on the floor.  “Mum? Is that ice cream?  You never buy ice cream.”  “Quiet,” I scolded, “go put on the kettle.”

As I write this, the 3^rd round of the snowpocalypse has just finished. I’m sitting in front of my wee fireplace, someone is making hot chocolate on my now functioning stove and I’m feeling blessed.  You’d never know that a few hours ago I was on the phone sobbing to a friend.  She was trying to put me back together as I discussed a troubling situation.  I was not convinced God was inclined to help me given the amount of time he was taking to answer my prayers.  How is it possible to feel so cared for one moment and so neglected the next? Feelings are unreliable in an emotional storm.

I wanted to remind you if you are in a place of waiting; God hears you.  He cares for you.  Storms can be difficult to bear and it is easy to feel alone.  I’m praying your faith might be strengthened to see the ways in which He is answering your prayers.  I like to think of them as God’s fingerprints touching things you never expected. Hopefully, in seeing his care you might be able to comprehend that his heart is for you.  By seeing his little blessings you might be able to trust him with the bigger more frightening issues.    

I’m praying for you this week,

Practice thanksgiving and stay warm.

xoxKaren