So.

Laura Ingalls Wilder's, The Long Winter, found its way to Buffalo. Will winter never end?

Ok, I'm exaggerating. Our glorious Monday is only a memory (or did I dream it?) and we've had lots more ice, more snow, which has filled my head with complaints--hence, my lack of blog posts. (And there is a lesson in there which I'll let you figure out.)

Bundled up, yesterday I walked down to the deli where they were out of eggs (again) which I was in dire need of, but I bought a bag of potatoes and tuna. While the lone cashier totaled my purchases I gazed up above her and noticed, for the first time, an ancient framed sign with a black and white photo of the original owner (it said), probably from the 1920's. Next to it was one of those oval frames from way-back-when with an elderly woman's photo, probably the man's wife. This deli is new to this ancient street, but perhaps those photos have always hung there, even when this tiny shop was something else.

Whatever, I love anything which catapults me back in time.

I carried my purchases back home, put them away, then headed out the door again into more snow which was not yet sticking. I walked down that 'country road' I mentioned to you then I cut across one of the 'ghost town neighborhoods', so-called by me because, with all this winter stuff happening, the streets are eerily silent. But cars sleep under snow in driveways so I just assume people live inside those houses--and yet I feel all Gone Away Lake-ish anyway. 

I walked past some old shops where the owners still live above them, to the convenience store, bought the eggs and my usual yogurt and peanuts, etc., and wandered back home, but this time with baby steps because the snow began sticking, covering the icy parts of the street. Took me forever to return home, but I was thankful that at least I'd gotten some of that filtered grey light upon my (frozen) face. 

Yet later, after I'd been home awhile, I floundered. I could feel the dreaded ol', "there's-much-to-do-but-I-don't-feel-like-doing-it" feeling and I caught myself thinking, "Hmm. Having a computer around 24/7 the past seven winters seemed to make Life easier. Maybe we should get ours out of storage instead of just using the laptop Tom brings home from work with him at night." Maybe I should buy more books, craft supplies, etc.

But I stopped myself. No, I want only to rely upon Jesus, upon Him and the ideas He gives me--His plans and ways and means. When I rely upon people and places and stuff, well, I discover real trouble and inevitable disappointment. And so I smiled and began a mental gratitude list and went from there, puttering and anticipating Tom's return and drawing Life and Light in the meantime from the only One who can really give it.

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"In Him I live, in Him I move, in Him I have my being... I am complete in Him." ... copied.


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