My midwinter escape to see Grandma Cherry and Grandpa Corwin in Ft. Myers Beach, Florida came not a day too soon. One more day in the frozen tundra of Connecticut, and I might have lost my mind. Or my religion.
Of course, I didn’t get out of town today without a fight. More white stuff this morning. Fed up with the snow and ice, I cautiously tip-toed down my slippery front porch steps and avoiding the mounting pile of snow next to my car, flung my bags in the front seat. Noticing my well-used snow scrapper perched below the passenger seat, I positioned myself to grab for it while trying to keep from sticking my suede boots in a snow drift. It can not have been a pretty picture. I’m sure I looked decidedly ungraceful with my toes as close to the drift as possible, rear end angled outward for balance, and one hand on the side of the car to steady myself.
That’s when it happened.
First one cowgirl-boot-clad foot lost traction, and then the other started to slip. And before I could catch myself, I was face down in the snow, legs splayed in either direction, still clutching the exterior of the car. A not-so-fancy word followed.
Can you really blame a girl for letting a curse word slip in a moment like that?
I continued to yell—albeit no more expletives—as I completed the task of removing the snow from my car and myself. Hopefully my neighbors didn’t hear as I hollered at the heavens, “Get me outta here!!!”
I confess, I have grown weary of Connecticut. I’ve grown weary of doing good, even. It seems the Words of Affirmation tank is perpetually on empty and my patience with the culture has all but expired. I’m tired of feeling like the outsider. Tired of waiting for spring. Tired of getting flipped off and cursed out behind the wheel. Tired of spending myself on behalf of others only to struggle financially in one of the most expensive counties in the nation.
“Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up,” (Galatians 6:9).
I have to guard my heart, lest I start to question the Lord’s wisdom in bringing me here. Spring will come again, after all. And God's Word promises there WILL be a harvest—at the proper time.
So for now I'm just waiting for spring where the Cloud has settled.