Yesyes, it is cold enough for me. Thanks for asking. And yesof course I am enjoying this snow. Who doesn't love the snow? All of it. Every single inch upon inch upon inch of it. I felt like an accomplished and seasoned winter hiker as I made my way outdoors this morningin the darktraversing knee-level snowbanks. Ahh, winter.
I am a prairie girl, born and raised. Apart from a couple of stints over the years when I spent time in Alberta I have lived my life in Saskatchewan. I cherish our changing seasons-admittedly my appreciation for some is more apparent than for others. Nonetheless I have been quick to admire the sparkling frost on the trees and beauty of the snow-laden evergreens. The ice and snow look spectacular on the foliage but I am less enamoured with it as it builds up on the roads.
I love driving. Give me a stretch of highway and my favourite radio station and I am content for hours on end. Give me an errand around town in the winter and I will get myself hung up on a snowdrift in a matter of moments. It's as if the front of my car is magnetically pulled toward a pile of the stuff. My husband insisted several years ago that my vehicle needed winter tires. I believe he was concerned for my safety but undoubtedly he was tired of getting phone calls indicating I was, once again, stuck somewhere.
A favourite movie of my girls when they were little was "Finding Nemo". Dory, the pacific regal blue tang, tells another fish that when life gets you down you need to "just keep swimming, just keep swimming." My daughters adapted this line and any time the vehicle started to slow and get bogged down in snow they would encourage me with a song from their car seats, "Mommy, just keep moving, just keep moving."
It wasn't just my family who was aware of my affinity for snowbanks. One terribly cold morning when my daughters were young I was dropping them off at school and attempted to get turned around and back on the road. Beyond all reasonable understanding I put the front end of my vehicle into the snow that had been carefully pushed to the edge of the parking lot. A sympathetic father saw my predicament. He glanced at the expanse of cleared parking lot and the current location of my vehicle and, demonstrating tremendous graciousness (and restraint), simply came over and pushed me free. The only emotion that could trump my embarrassment was my complete gratitude.
Thankfully I haven't had to spend too much time in any particular drift since assistance came quite quickly. It's taken longer to get out of some of life's situations. You see, it's not just snowbanks that have gotten me hung up and stuck. Other things are considerably harder to free ourselves from than a pile of snow. How often have I ground to a halt because I wouldn't forgive, wouldn't let go, or wouldn't move on? How many times have I let stubbornness or pride keep me from getting to a place I could have been?
All kinds of obstacles can keep us mired in places we wish we didn't find ourselves; overwhelming responsibilities, illness, fear, a sense of inadequacy, finances, or even schedules. Some situations are of our own making, others are life's challenges thrust upon us that suffocate like a mountain of snow in front of us, behind us, and crowding in from all sides. Trying to crawl out on our own isn't always possible, nor is waiting for a thaw in hopes the situation will change.
Whatever rut, bank, hill or mountain you may find yourself facing don't spend time spinning your wheels. That simply causes the ruts to deepen and prevents any possibility of forward motion. There are ways to cut through the drifts and climb over the banks. Let people see where you are at and invite them into your predicament. Or, if you feel you are hung up on that snowbank all alone, say the word. It will act like a flare and alert those who can respond.
And then, don't worry about what you'll say to those who come to help. They will be far less concerned with how you got there, and far more concerned with getting you going again. That's my outlook.
