On
Being Stuck on a Snow Day
Psalm 142.7—Bring me out of this prison, so that I may
give thanks to your name…
It was about 1 pm yesterday when,
through the hushed purple and gentle golden stained glass windows in my study,
I noticed the snow. Flakes were falling fast and with purpose as they soared
through the sky. A dusting quickly turned into a covering, and streets already
paved with ice became consumed by snow.
Despite living mere blocks away
from my favorite building in Lincoln, I knew I needed to get home quickly. When
your vehicle of choice is a rear-wheel drive Chevy pick up truck, you have just
moments between the accumulating inches of snow to get where you need to be.
Otherwise, your chances of getting stuck increase exponentially.
And well,
despite my best intentions,
as well as my ability to
nimbly navigate in wintery weather
I made it all the way to my house
before I
got
stuck.
After 30 minutes of spinning my
tires, rocking and rolling, I was eventually rescued by a thoughtful neighbor,
and was able to free my tiny truck. I waded through the white snow, turned
black by this point with the stench of rubber on its surface, and made it the
15 feet into my garage.
That moment of being stuck was
frustrating. I was so close, and yet, so far away. Despite employing all the
necessary tactics, and taking my time so I could arrive safely, still I managed
to get stuck. My adrenaline was pumping and my heart racing as I tried and
tried and tried to complete this journey on my own.
Being stuck is no fun. There is
perhaps no worse feeling than being trapped or fastened to some facet of life.
Looking out my writing room window, I see cars buried in snow; neighbors un-sticking
themselves with shovels and snow blowers; and I see something else too. Just
beyond the trees that hang heavy with snow, past the intersection glistening
with ice, there is a reminder sparking in the soft snow. From the window I see
an opportunity to stop:
to stop wanting to be unstuck;
to stop wishing for warmer weather;
to stop pondering how problematic
these winter weather patterns have been
and to begin just
being.
Being “stuck”
has made me realize that life isn’t so much about progress as it is about
process. Spring will have its day. We know that it will come: but winter needs
hers as well. Soon the sun will shine and the warmer weather will return, and
we will be liberated from being stuck. But we must not hurry these forced days
off so quickly. Having to slow down provides us the occasion to engage in
activities for which we often don’t have time. We can drink our coffee
more deliberately. We can take our time working the crossword puzzle in the
paper. And we can do the difficult work of stopping rather than starting;
stalling rather than moving—learning that perhaps one cannot happen
without the other.
Maybe being stuck is necessary to being unstuck, maybe acting
cannot happen without listening first.
When we’re stuck, what is the
world trying to reveal to us?
When we’re stuck, what is your
soul speaking to your personhood?
When we’re stuck, what is God
bringing forth in your beautiful life?
Poet Wendell Berry said this about Winter,
“Suppose
we did our work
like the snow, quietly, quietly,
leaving nothing out.”
like the snow, quietly, quietly,
leaving nothing out.”
So friends, put your arms around your soul, embrace the
anguish that comes with being stuck, and respond to your summons from God. Get
ready for the adventure of growing into the next part of your life. Getting
stuck is worth whatever angst you must go through just so you can hear God say
to you,
"Hang on, you are about to get unstuck."
See you tonight at Kirk Night, friends!
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