"We are calling with an important message..." That was the computer voice on the other end of my phone at 5:30 this morning. Bleary-eyed, I grabbed the phone, thankfully sensing, even before I answered, that it wasn't going to be one of those night-time phone calls, the kind we dread. No. It was the public school district kindly informing us -- although we do not avail ourselves of their services -- that schools are closed today.
Several phone calls, e-mails, and inches of snow later, all our typical Wednesday activities were cancelled. Wednesday is a busy day, typically. Today, all activity has ground to a halt.
Snow days are different when you home school. The show, so to speak, can go on. And yet, even for us, today feels different.
After serveral days of this, I guess we all start to feel cooped up, but for one day, it is a strange and special sort of freedom. Suddenly the world bends. It bows low to the force of nature, of God. All of our busyness and the important appointments and meetings and all of the things that we cannot possibly miss, just stop. No one argues. No one worries too much. Because we're all in it together.
The snow, suddenly, is a great equalizer. We heave a collective sigh, inwardly smile as we slip into our slippers, heat some milk and mix in the cocoa.
As I lay in my warm bed, only half-cursing the automated-phone-call voice, I thought about the milk truck driver, the newspaper delivery man, the mail carrier, the garbage collector, and, of course, the snow plow drivers, all of those dedicated public servants who will persevere through the storm. But for most of us, we get to pause and admire the handiwork of God, who, sometimes, forces us to stop.