Snow Plows

   

When the road's clear, you can drive safely.

     Winter driving in Utah can be treacherous, but our roads are well taken care of.  Well before dawn, crews are out on the highways salting and plowing. Sometimes three or more plows work together to manicure the interstate. My husband says they are coordinated like dancers. I am very grateful that the plows clear away the snow and ice. Because of their work, we simply go on with our activities regardless of the weather. Snow plows are huge and you should never try to out run one. We actually have highway signs that say "Respect Snow Plow Operations." This got me thinking about how God uses events and people in our lives to help us move forward.

     When I look back on the last three years, I see that unwelcome surprises and disasters have helped me clean out debris and move ahead. Of course, I did NOT see this at the time. When the septic tank broke, when my husband was laid off, when my son got in a fight....I acted appropriately: I freaked out. In hindsight, I can see areas of personal growth for all of us. As far as my own growth, suffice it to say I would not have changed some of my ways if I wasn't forced to do so.

Ninja Mom needs a shovel. Shovels and plows are both good.

      God wants us to function at our highest level. He presents us with custom tailored situations that often bring us to our knees. In the quiet, cold reality of our chaos, we finally turn to Him. He wants us to be in relationship with Him. I want to be better about coming to Him with gratitude and not just grumbling. I know He saw me standing in the snow and crying about my broken pipes. I know for certain He heard my prayers for my son and I know He heard my pleas for my husband's employment.  He is gracious and He is faithful. My gratitude is not misplaced. It's simply tardy.

Respect the Grief

    It can creep up on you. Perhaps you are washing dishes. Maybe you are running or driving. Suddenly, you find yourself crying. Grief is sneaky and grief is real. I recently lost my Aunt Mary and it has given me the chance to think about life, death, and mourning, a little more personally.

     In the old days, there was a designated period of mourning. Though we tend to see this as archaic, it did have a good intention. The bereaved wore different clothes and the bereaved were treated with a reserved respect. The whole process was part of letting go. After my Dad died, I actually had a woman yell "How are you, Mary? How's your Mom?" across a crowded room.  I was able to choke out a weak, "fine," but I made a mental note: Never shout at the bereaved! I can't help but feel that modern society barrels ahead. There is little acknowledgement that the energy and composition of the world has changed.
     I am not arguing for a return to traditional mourning, but I am suggesting that a person can create their own rituals for processing a loved one's passing.  My aunt was a generous gift giver. I have taken this to heart and feel that when I give I am affirming her legacy. I feel like I am saying "She lived and she made a huge difference and I will carry on her work."
     Aside from honoring the deceased, it is good to simply take a deep breath and be quiet. I couldn't attend church last week because my grief was too close to the surface. I am not a public crier. For someone else, going to church might be just the right thing. People are different and they grieve differently; it's important to leave room for that.
     I have regrets. I can think of a million ways that I could have been a better niece. But I'm taking it as an instruction to use my finite time on earth a little better. Gandhi said, "Be the change you wish to see in the world." It's never too late for that. Peace to you.