In the span of about 8 hours this morning, Northwest Arkansas was blessed with 23 inches of snow. Our usual “major snow events” are typically 5-6 inches, so needless to say, the entire area ground to a screeching halt. Schools are closed, stores are closed, heck, even major corporations were closed today. After 4 snow days home with our kids last week, many of us are starting to feel like we’re trapped in “Groundhog Day”, expecting to see Bill Murray waltz in the front door any minute. He’d have to come in the front door, because there is no way in all that is warm and fluffy, that I would actually leave the house.
In the 11 years I’ve been here, snow days have taken their rightful place on my dread scale, just a shade less disturbing than tornado warnings. The boys go stir crazy, and I spend 30 minutes getting clothes layered, gloves on, boots fastened, and generally bundled up tighter than Randy from Christmas Story. They then spend 15 minutes outside, and start banging on the door, cold, wet, and wanting in. After another 30 minutes of mopping up snow, getting them dried and changed, they ask to do it all over again.
Late this afternoon, I sat on the couch, staring out the window wondering where on earth our street went, and tried to figure out what on earth I did to deserve getting trapped inside for the better part of a week, yet again. I have no illusions – it’ll be late Friday before I see the black asphalt of our winding little country lane. But then, the quiet hit me. Not really hit me, but more like wrapped itself around me like a warm fuzzy towel. There is nothing like a snow day to bring absolute stillness – no sound outside at all, except the rare squeal of a child, or a dog down the street wanting to be let back inside. It’s not a middle of the night kind of quiet where every bump and creak makes you wonder when the guy under the stairs is going to grab you. This is so peaceful, so soft, that you can’t help but bring up each of your blessings, turn them over in your mind, and snuggle them down into your heart. The same way you will with your kids when they come in the house, cold, wet, and needing a warm towel and mommy snuggles.
I’ll probably always take an 80 degree day at the park, lounging under a tree over a snow day. But now, I have found the key to surviving them. If you’ll excuse me, I have some blessings to count, then wrap in a warm blanket. They’ll both be needing me.
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