Sunday, October 12, 2008

First Snow

I woke up this morning and wandered, bleary-eyed, into Soren's room. The window blinds were open and morning was streaming into the nursery. Cold, white morning. I don't think there is a more magical day of the year than the first morning you wake up to snow.


Yesterday Scott and I were walking to the library when it started to rain/slush. I couldn't really suppress a little hop-skip-and-squeal; for some reason it felt marvelous to turn my face up into the falling slurry. I pulled Soren's wrap up over his head and he fell asleep while we walked, getting wetter and wetter. It was absolutely wonderful. I said to Scott, "I love weather." I loved walking, all bundled up in hand-knit items, and feeling how different it was from walking in the heat only a few months ago. The newness of it made it feel like a special gift, falling on my head straight from heaven.

Then we passed a panhandler standing head down in a wet sweatshirt, cold and with no place to go. Here I was, enjoying a jaunt out in the invigoratingly chilly air while he was enduring it, hoping it would stop. I'm sure there's a lesson in this. Compassion, empathy. I was grateful for the sudden slush shower because I had a warm apartment to go back to. Or a library to hurry on to. He didn't have either of those things; surely the cold rain was no blessing to him. Still, I'd felt the love of God in that bitter sweet condensation.

The library was full of hobos. I was glad. Perhaps it wasn't so callous of me to be grateful for the fluctuating weather. Because of the great economy of my Father, I could feel His love in chilly, melted fingerprints on my face even as they could feel His love while sinking into a warm, public armchair.

Things I was grateful for on this walk: changing weather, my comfortable apartment, a lesson in compassion, and the public library.

1 comment:

Russtafarian said...

Oh Carolyn...

Don't too be too somber when reading titles like "Why Feminists Should Vote for Prop. 8."

That said, there is some multiple personality disorder going on within feminism. There's the feminism that insists that gender is a construct (obviously dangerous) and the feminism that obsesses over inherency to the point of alienating themselves from men (almost as dangerous).

By opposing Prop. 8, one is essentially accepting that one's sex is essentially irrelevant to raising a child. One doesn't need a mother or a father necessarily, so opponents of Prop. 8 say.

So I'm suggesting that if being feminine means anything at all, then feminists would do well to come along.