Snow Thoughts

Despite all the disruption of the recent snowfall, it brought me some centering reminders. For example, yesterday I reached out our bedroom window and snapped a five foot icicle off the gutter. For a few seconds I held it, turned it in the sunlight, savoring its crystal brilliance. Then I decided not to bring it into the house and let it go to the ground. I had not held an icicle in years and almost forgot how miraculous they are.

There were other blessings from the blizzard. A passer-by in an enormous SUV agreed to drive several times up and down our side street. The city rarely gets around to plowing it and the SUV created a fine channel through the two foot drifts. Hours later, when some of us had dug out our cars, we actually had a passable road to drive on. Who was that woman with the SUV? Nobody knew.

Occasionally it seemed to me the drifts of snow had created a city-wide support community. I saw groups of shovelers working on stuck cars or clearing the side walk leading up to our corner store. My neighbor, Ted, who I almost never see, called up to remind me that he had a chain saw for the tree that fell on my garage roof. Getting on the computer, I discovered that HopeWell people were busy checking on one another. Some group members, unable to meet this week, relayed photos and stories of their snowbound lives. Others, who could get out, offered to picked up groceries or medicines for their fellows. No surprise there. Pitch-in caring is what we do.

When next I get into HopeWell I know there will be a lively exchange of snow stories. Do you have one? Did this tumultuous whiteness center you in the moment? Perhaps it just intensified your winter grumpiness? Were you struck by some random act of kindness? Share them here. If you have already forgotten the feeling of last week, I recommend “Snow Day” by Billie Collins, part of which goes like this...

…beyond these windows
the government buildings smothered,
schools and libraries buried, the post office lost
under the noiseless drift,
the paths of trains softly blocked,
the world fallen under this falling.

Thomas Large, M.M.H., LCSW-C  Clinical Director, HopeWell Cancer Support

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