Out Like a Lion

This piece is gonna run in the Guilford Record in April, but you guys get a sneak peak.

With all the unstable weather we’ve been having, it’s easy to think that there isn’t a whole lot left that we can be certain of. There’s economic uncertainty, political bickering, and the last stretch of the dark and cold of winter has many of us on our last nerve. Then, to add insult to injury, just as we get a glimpse of sunshine, a hint of shorts-and-t-shirts weather, here comes the sleet again to drive us back to the storage boxes in our closets where we stashed, maybe a little prematurely, our winter coats. As a culture we’ve spent a great deal of time, energy and talent creating lives in which things happen on our schedule. We complain, good-naturedly, about the rush and bustle of modern living, but deep down we love the deadlines, the schedules, and the riches and praises they bring. Even in the down economy we’ve been having, if you work hard, stay out of trouble, and make good choices, you can get ahead. But the weather…that’s a different story. There are so few things left that we haven’t managed to bring under control, and the weather is on the short list. We’ve gotten better over the years about predicting it, but even with our modern Doppler radar and sophisticated computer models we still don’t know what the hockey stick is going on sometimes. No wonder our ancestors use to sing, dance, or sacrifice animals to bring or keep away the rain. There’s something in us that wants to be in control of every last detail, and the on again, off again hot and cold we’ve been having really does a number on our nice, neat, orderly plans. All sorts of workers and businesses, from landscapers and farmers to aircraft mechanics and photographers, plan their day’s work by the weather report, and some of us, who have struggled to heat our homes throughout this cold season in the face of ever-rising energy costs, almost take this last icy whisper of winter personally, like mother nature is out to get us for not recycling enough.

I happen to think, though, that it’s not such a bad thing to have a reminder every once in a while of just how much we rely on things beyond our immediate control. Maybe the humility that losing our flowers to a snap frost will bring not bitterness, but an appreciation for the things in life we can count on. Maybe it’ll help us choose to invest our valuable time in making the world a better place. Maybe we’ll keep someone’s kids for an afternoon, or do the dishes without being asked. We might check the box on our gas bill and donate energy to needy families, or contribute to a food drive. We might even take the time to let someone know that they’re not in this thing alone, no matter how dark it may look outside.

Maybe. But I’ve still got some shorts and a t-shirt laid out, just in case.