The Stillness of Snow

One of my first memories was tied to snow. I was just four years old, and my older sister Mary Pat and I built a huge igloo in our yard. That’s at least what it seemed like to me at the age of four or five. I have snapshots of this first memory in my mind: being in the igloo, more snow than I had ever seen in my life, joy from being with my sister. 

I’ve seen real snapshots of this time period in my life, too, and they’re of me with her outside in the snow. I know this time was a special moment in the lives of both of us. A real bonding happened. This igloo is probably why my sister calls me every time she hears the song  “Snow” in White Christmas.  

This particular snow was memorable for my husband, too, who also grew up in the St. Louis area. The city had thundersnow, so I’m sure that it’s a powerful memory for anyone born in the late 1970s and early 1980s. 

In college, snow brought me joy and anxiety. I loved the calm that came to SLU’s campus during the snow, but I also have vivid memories of being in a terrible snow storm and trying to get back to St. Louis after visiting a friend in Omaha. My car went off the side of the road multiple times, and people would help me to get back on; I had another college aged student who helped me at one of the stops and in my head I was thinking how I should not trust a stranger and I’m a female stuck on the side of the road alone. He helped me get back on the road and followed me to Columbia; he was wearing a swim parka and my rationalization was that my nephew was a swimmer. I knew swimmers at SLU, and they were all nice people. He followed me and was like a guardian angel making sure I was safe in the storm. Sometimes I wonder if he was real.

As an adult, snow continued to bring me joy and anxiety. As a teacher, I love the prospect of a day off, but I also get nervous about driving and it affecting my plans.  I lived in the DC area in 2009-10 when the DC area had two big snows. The December 2009 snow came after my dad died; I was frustrated because of my grief and wanted to get home. We ended up helping a colleague of mine get home to St. Louis, too. The caveat was he had to sit with the dogs. This was a dark time in my life with the loss of my dad, I had been going through fertility treatments, and my husband was getting ready to start training out of state for a deployment to Iraq.

The REAL DC Snowmageddon came in February of 2010. I remember leaving school early to check out a retreat center, and the forecasters were starting to clarify that we were going to get a healthy amount of snow. I went to the grocery store and made sure I had enough food for the week, that I had wine and beer. My husband was wrapping up training at Maguire AFB/Fort Dix in New Jersey, and I was so nervous he was going to get trapped there, but he made it back to Andrews just as the first flakes fell. We still talk about that week being a second honeymoon. We watched movies that were nominated for Oscars. We played video games and board games. We ate well. We slept. We talked about all of the insanity that had been going on in our lives. And the snow came and came and came. It forced us to be still and gave us freedom to pause other parts of our lives. It was such a gift. 

Early this year, I went to  Atlanta on the first week of a residency requirement for a program to become a spiritual director. When I left home, my house had a dusting, unexpectedly, from some thunder snow that came through. I was able to get out ok, and while I was in Atlanta, Atlanta experienced a few inches of snow, which has been a big deal for them since they don’t see it very often at all. People were excited; it forced us to pause, and I was once again reminded of the beauty and stillness that comes with the snow. It literally dulls the noise outside but also dulls the noise in our lives.

The world pauses. The world gets quieter. God literally forces us to slow down and just be. If we’re lucky, we can safely sit and watch it through a window, admiring the beauty. If we’re lucky, we may have a fireplace to sit next to that keeps us warm.

“Be still and know that I am God” is a phrase from Psalm 46:10. It’s come up for me a lot this year so far, even before the snowy weather. I can sense God challenging me to slow down, to pause, and to enjoy stillness – the stillness that snow brings; it’s like clicking a pause button for the part of the world that it covers, even in our busiest cities and places. 

What does it mean to really be still? When we are still, our bodies physically relax, but real stillness is also a stillness of mind. When we are still, it opens up opportunities for contemplation, reflection on our lives, and times to listen to God. 

Food for thought: What reaction do you have to snow? Is it a time for stillness for you? If you don’t live in an area that gets snow, what weather phenomenon pushes you to pause and slow down? When was the last time you pushed the pause button and really slowed down? If you slowed down, did you hear God? If so, what was God saying to you?