Benedict, You Scoundrel

If you were to ask me, on a scale of one to ten, just how much I love winter, my answer would probably be, "Negative eight."  Which is what the temperature was at my house this morning.

I can be a good sport about winter, dreaming of a White Christmas and strapping on a pair of cross-country skis once or twice during the season.  But I don't like the cold.  I don't like the dark.  I don't like icy roads.  I am getting too old to shovel, and I don't like that crud that gets frozen in the wheel wells of my car.

I'm pretty sure that winter was introduced into God's perfect creation sometime after the fall of man, when all of creation rebelled against its Creator.  There is no way Adam and Eve could possibly have withstood a New England winter, running around naked as they were.

So when my daughter announced she wanted to get married on January 8th, I shook my head and wondered, "Who raised this girl?"  January 8th just so happened to be the date on which my daughter's former baby sitter and husband married.  I will always remember that date as my family was unable to attend their wedding.  We were flying home from the Philippines with our newly adopted son in a blizzard!

Chief among the many things I am grateful for this week is that this held off until after the wedding:

Other parts of the state received a record-setting 25 inches.  I don't know what we'd have done with 9 more inches!

Or I would have had one very unhappy bride.

And even though I'll never be a fan of winter and  am counting the days until I can smell suntan lotion and salt air and feel the sand beneath my feet, I have gift to count this week, reasons to give thanks.  Joining with Ann and the Gratitude Community, this wintry Monday morning:



733.  Benedict, the record-setting snowstorm, held off until after the wedding (because my loving heavenly Father knows exactly how much stress I can handle).

734.  In-laws able to scramble and adjust travel plans, making connections for 50th anniversary trip, and getting out just ahead of the storm.

735.  That this gray-haired old woman still has strength to shovel--maybe not for as long and hard as I used to, but I can still help out without hurting myself.

736.  Strong husband, not traveling and willing and able to shovel.

737.  Son doing his part.

738.  Kind neighbor loaning us his snow blower.

739.  Christmas lights made even prettier.

740.  Morning sun.

741.  Blue sky the morning after.

742.  Grace to find beauty, even in gifts I'd rather not receive.