It’s a wintry morning as I write and the news teams on TV are all atwitter over a couple inches of snow. At this very moment, an ‘on location’ reporter is standing in front of a municipal garage dressed like Nanook of the North attempting to dramatize two inches of snowfall.
It seems to me, when I was kid, we just didn’t worry about snowy roads like we do today. It may be my imagination, but I don’t remember all this falderal over a couple inches of snow. It generally required massive amounts of snow to get anyone’s attention, whereas today any snowfall prediction lights up social and news media like a lightning strike at midnight. I’m not snarky or sarcastic but rather, simply fascinated.
As I think about it, I’m sure the sheer numbers of cars on the road today has much to do with all the ado. After all, when I was a kid very few families had more than one car and there just weren’t as many people. Certainly the instant communication generated by social media and 24-hour news reporting by hundreds of TV stations has resulted in an intensified focus of concern regarding even the most insignificant details.
In the 1950’s, a snowfall warning was a call to arms rather than a call to cancel. Dad charged against a snowstorm like a warrior answering the trumpet call to battle. With incoming snow, he’d layer his tattered insulated long johns under the required wool twill work uniform Deeds Dairy provided their milkmen. With a sock cap drawn deep over his ears, his feet solidly anchored in four buckle artics and only the flimsy collar of his Eisenhower inspired waist jacket to protect his clean shaven neck from winters bitter bite, he’d march into the white abyss to install snow chains on the old Mercury’s recapped, bias belted snow tires. Like a warrior fitting his steed for battle, he’d dive under the car to cinch the chains. With deep pride I’d press my nose to the frosted single pane window and watch as snow flew from around his tall lanky frame like a dog digging in sand. I winced when he tossed aside his frozen, jersey work gloves in order to gain the bare-handed dexterity needed for the task at hand.
Often it would take two or three runs at the drifts common to our hilltop home before he’d escape the tentacles of our driveway only to face the similar drifts for miles of unplowed country roads on his way to the dairy—all before daylight. In 30 years of milk delivery, dad never took a snow day.
It was years later before I fully grasped how his prolonged journey to reach the dairy on snowy mornings was only the beginning of a daylong weather battle. While the Mercury rested in the dairy parking lot, waiting in a cocoon of snow for his return, Dad was hunched over the wheel of his milk truck manhandling greasy roads and bucking the drifts of every driveway on his delivery route, only then to carry milk to and from the truck over hundreds of snow covered walks and icy stoops.
Dad’s legacy impacts my value system to this day. I have to monitor my own military-like insistence that weather shouldn’t alter travel plans. I’ve had to admit that bucking the drifts to reach the mall doesn’t carry the same weight as getting milk to babies.
Life comes pre-packaged with difficulties, doesn’t it? But when I reflect on Dad’s patient tenacity so clearly displayed on those snowy mornings, the way he persistently demonstrated his comfort wasn’t as important as the task placed before him…gives me pause.
And as it should be, Dad’s mature approach reminds me of our Savior, Jesus Christ, who in the face of unspeakable difficulties kept his focus on the purpose for which He came.
In the New Testament book of Hebrews, we read…
“Keep your eyes on Jesus, who both began and finished this race we’re in. Study how he did it. Because he never lost sight of where he was headed—that exhilarating finish in and with God—he could put up with anything along the way: Cross, shame, whatever. And now he’s there, in the place of honor, right alongside God.” (Hebrews 12:2 The Message)
So when you face problems, don’t shrink back. Stay focused and remember to keep your eye on the prize. Be Blessed—RG
Read Ron’s column, Simple Faith, each Saturday on the Faith Page (page 3) of the Lancaster Eagle Gazette, or visit www.lancastereaglegazette.com.