Finally, after a brief false spring that set the birds a-twittering and the trees a-blossoming, Winter has arrived in Anytown. She came just as she always does: clad in her long grey coat and making a fantastically blustery entrance.
Anytown Winters are the curmudgeonly old maid sisters of the bright, snowy Winters of other places. Anytown Winters are bitter, depressing, and rain on everyone’s parade, if they don’t bring ice or hail. But one thing an Anytown Winter will never bring in her battered black satchel is snow. She conveniently forgets it almost every year, although every once in a while she’ll grace us with a feeble dusting of glorious white magic that doesn’t even stop traffic, much less cancel school.
But this year, just maybe, we’ll get a little snow.
Throughout my college career, I have always dreamt of a show-stopping snow. My parents tell me of a snowfall in the 80’s that shut UU down for days and all the students rushed out to the stadium field for snowball fights and snow angels and snowmen shaped like the university’s founder. Then they’d all scamper off to the campus snack shop to get warm and drink hot chocolate before plunging into the snow again.
I have dreamed of living through a day like this ever since I heard the story. Snow by yourself is one thing. Snow shared with friends could be something marvelous.
My northern friends will scoff at my sentimentality. They can scoff all they want to. Every winter will find me looking out the window in the mornings, expecting a little whiteness but finding none. Until one day, like magic, I will see snow floating down the way I have always imagined that manna fell. I will hope for enough snow to keep the teachers home and cancel classes. Even if I still have to go to class, I will stare out the windows and watch the stuff fall, waiting for that wonderful moment when I can run out of the building and scoop up a handful and turn it into a missile. Even if I only throw it at a tree or an unsuspecting squirrel, it will be worth it. Then at the close of a long day of walking through brisk and silent snowy cold I will curl up in my chair with a cup of something hot and read. In the words of an old song, “Wouldn’t it be loverly?”
This fantasy may or may not become reality. After all, my wishes and prayers collide with the wishes and prayers of those who would rather not see snow. As with all of the other areas of my life, whatever happens—happens. It’s not my call, thank goodness. While I may wish for snow, God may choose something else. Like rain. But rain, sunshine, or snow, His plan is always best, even if it doesn’t comply to what I want. He always gives us just what we need.
Still…it’s no sin to wish for something beautiful. Like snow.