Snow really reminds me of how childlike most of us still are. A few days ago I was riding through town with a friend. We drove passed a field of snow with no prints in it. We both stared at it and she said "Man I want to stop and run through that right now." I had been thinking the same thing. We did not stop. We drove on a discussed why we had wanted to run through the snow. For her it was the desire to be the first person to run through it, to have her solitary footsteps claiming the field for herself. Me, I knew the snow was a few days old and the weather had stayed cold, freezing at night. Every step would bring a very satisfying crunch. For just a second my foot would be held on top of the ice, then as my full weight was shifted onto that foot it would break through with a crunch then sink into the snow. What fun. The next day was Wednesday. I drive the Awana bus, really just a 15 passenger van, for one of our churches. I was the first person to drive the van in weeks so as I crossed the parking lot it was my solitary footsteps crunching through the snow. I started the van then walked behind it shovel some snow out of the way. I literally jumped up and down when I noticed that along the whole back of the van was a solid sheet of ice about half and inch thick. Along the bottom edge was a weak spot for my fingers to work under. I peeled every bit of the ice off in big chunks then jumped on them until they were nothing more than tiny shards of ice. All of that crunching was payment enough for the rest of the evening trying to keep that large thing on the road. Not to mention the two times I got stuck trying to pull away from the curb. In the deep slush there was no traction. The first time I had all of the kids in with me. They were really quiet as I worked my way away from the curb, sliding sideways every once in a while. When we were back on the road driving away one little boy said 'I thought we were going to die.' The second time I was alone and there was no getting it out. I had to get a pull.
Yesterday I was wearing a really old cardigan. It was a christmas present the year I was pregnant with Lee. That means the thing is fourteen years old. The thing is full of holes, but I can't find one I like as well. I was also wearing some very worn slippers. Shuffling around the house I probably looked eighty years old. I was doing laundry and as I tossed in a load I actually said 'there the unmentionables are done.' Now I have never called anything an unmentionable in my life. Actually in my family everything is mentionable. That is one of our charms. One day I'm ten, the next I'm eighty. I seem to be in a chronological warp.