I had to be somewhere at 5:55 a.m. On Saturday morning. Yes, I did.
Yesterday had been warm and beautiful.
Today I woke up in the dark. Fortunately for me, I dressed and left my house before I was aware of much. At some point between the first and second turns away from my home, I realized that all was black and wet, but I just kept driving, and the Lord kept me safe. I assumed that the precipitation was rain, because everything was as black as night. Well, to be fair, it pretty much was night. I did try to read the temperature on my dashboard, but I wasn't wearing my reading glasses (I can't see in the distance for driving, if I have reading glasses on). All I could make out on the dashboard thermometer was thirty-something. I chose to believe it was 36 or 38 degrees.
When I got out of my meeting, three inches of heavy snow coated my car. Punch-drunk from early morning, the others who had attended the meeting commenced to lobbing snowballs in the parking lot. One man drove off with a mini snowman perched on his hood.
When I arrived at home, my neighborhood looked like this:
But, on my front porch, a potted geranium stood resolute and fuchsia, barely sheltered from the blowing sleet beyond.
Gawky, yet determined.
I am thankful for the sight, for the fact that this flower could bloom at all on the 21st of November, and for the symbolism.
Hope springs eternal. Miracles abound.
I am thankful.
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