All over the country temperatures are colder than normal. It has been particularly frigid in Minnesota with schools being closed and people who are blessed to have shelter staying in and hunkering down. Temperatures have plummeted and the wind chills have been staggering. Mostly, we like to wear this weather like a shield of honor. It seems to be a birthright or at least an adoption-right of those of us who call ourselves Minnesotans. I saw this written on the faces of those who showed up at church on Sunday. Proud, red, ruddy faces.
There is something wonderful about this cold weather if we are privileged to see it so. Take for instance the way the deep cold changes the sky at sunrise and sunset. Have you noticed? I have no idea why it is so but I am sure the science-minded among us could give the reasons. All I know is that the painting of the beginning and ending of day seems more brilliant, the colors more vivid. The sky has been striped with bright red, hot pink and a deep purple that seems nearly impossible. How does it happen?
Even the out put of factories and buildings working overtime to create warmth for their inhabitants is more colorful than usual. In my drive across the High Bridge in St. Paul, I can see the enormous puffs of smoke and steam, normally a billowing white over the Mississippi River, now creating a pale blue or a gentle pink, like smoke signals from a proud new parent announcing a child’s birth. What an amazing thing the cold air can do!
For those of us blessed to have enough layers on to keep us safe, there is much to notice. Ice crystals float in the air, almost imperceptible, not snow, just there, floating like tiny fairies. The sun, more brilliant and welcomed than usual, glints off the icicles that hang from gutters and wires, amazing lights that rival their Christmas decoration impostors. Even the bare branches of the trees offer a kind of blessing as their darkness creates lacy patterns against the icy, blue sky. Have you noticed?
The fact that these noticings are a privilege is not lost on me. These are observations of someone who has a warm home, a car that works well and is well maintained. They are made by someone who has enough warm clothes to keep skin from freezing and enough food to fuel the body. I pass plenty of folks along the way who are not in the same situation, those for whom observation would not only be a luxury but perhaps dangerous. May they be blessed with warm places of shelter this day and night and may a warm meal offer a respite from the difficulty of life I can only imagine.
On Monday, when schools and many businesses were closed, I was snug in my house taking the opportunity to catch up on paperwork, read and just stay put. It was a day that shattered temperature records and there was not much action up and down our street. Few cars ventured forth. But at one point of the afternoon, a car pulled up in front of our house. I watched as a man got out of his car and started, I thought, walking toward our door. But, instead, he turned and made his way to our Little Free Library. I saw he had two books in his hand. He opened the door of the library and gazed into it. He then placed the books inside and closed the door. I smiled and felt a warmth move through me.
As the man returned to his car, I thought of all the beauty birthed from this cold. The brilliant, colorful skies. The light hitting snow and ice, just so. Warm bowls of soup and fleecy blankets. Fires jumping in fireplaces and cats curled up in front of them. Children nestled on sofas with books and games and cups of hot chocolate. And people, strangers, who offer stories to keep us through the worst of the weather.
Even the cold has gifts, to give and receive, if we we have the eyes to see.
