I guess we should have expected it. Last week’s little dusting of snowflakes was just a foreshadowing of what was to come. Yesterday, the white stuff, which we refer to in Minnesota as that horrible four letter word, starting falling at about 1 PM and didn’t let up until around 8 or 9 PM.
There were more that 350 accidents and spin outs as those who still commute to work had to adapt to different driving conditions. I don’t know how driving has been in other states lately, but during this pandemic, people drive much faster in my state, with little concern for those around them. Anyway, we were fortunate not to have to go anywhere, but I couldn’t help wondering if this is just another addition to the growing list of complaints about the year 2020.
This morning the sun is glistening over the new fallen snow. Thoughts of hot chocolate are calling to me. As I grow more and more introverted during this time, I’m wondering if I’m alone in feeling this way. I know that we’re three quarters of the way through this year. I know that more is yet to come. Life doesn’t stop during a pandemic, it just becomes more intense. What we do with this time is imperative.
We could sit around, feel sorry for ourselves, cry, “oh woe is me,” or simply give in and pull ourselves deeper into the pit of depression. We could do that, but how is that going to make things better? As I think back to the Renaissance Period in history, the plague had destroyed many lives, but out of that time came artists like Michelangelo and DaVinci. Innovation began to spring up like new growth in springtime. Beautiful poetry was being produced, books were written and published by the newly invented printing press. The Reformation of the church was underway. More and more people were being educated and able to do more than simply eek out a living.
During the time of the Civil War lives were being shattered all across our country. But another disease in the form of tuberculosis was being called the Masque of the Red Death, by Poet Edgar Allan Poe. This genius of a writer lived in poverty for most of his life. He lost many of those he loved to tuberculosis and eventually died penniless and hopeless. Still we have a plethora of his writings to enjoy today.
There will always be sickness in our world, but there will also be those who rise above it – those who use their talents to enrich the lives of others – those who we can count on to get things done – those who serve others before themselves. I pray that this time in the wilderness teaches all of us how much we need each other and God to get through this life. How blessed our lives will be once we reach the other side of it.