
A couple of weeks ago, the Abbey closed campus at noon so that faculty and staff could return home before the winter weather struck. For the first time in over two years, meteorologists predicted, we were likely to see real snowfall, and the roads could be treacherous.
I drove home, eyeing a sky already heavy and soberly luminous. And at some point after getting back, reheating my lunch, and sitting down to work, I looked up to find it was snowing.
As adults we’re bound to have a more fraught relationship with snow than we did as kids. Back then it was all about play and the sheer gift of a day off from school. Snow brought a kind of festival, complete with cocoa, backyard adventuring, and that unique form of flight called sledding. These days, we admittedly have heating costs, driving hazards, and interruptions to busy schedules.
But even if we can’t entirely do away with the grown-up anxieties and inconveniences that come with winter storms, watching it fall for the first time in years felt like a much needed reminder to pause and recall that wondering anticipation, and I was glad to open the door and step outside and catch a snowflake or two. It made me think how important it is to embrace those festivals that don’t fall on any calendar. And to lean into the joyful trust that inspired G.K. Chesterton to say, “An inconvenience is only an adventure wrongly considered; an adventure is an inconvenience rightly considered.”
As kids we can’t wait to get outside in the snow. The cold is part of the fun, somehow, or at least no real deterrent. As adults we prefer to enjoy the snow from inside a well-heated house, preferably with a blanket and a mug of some toasty beverage. And to be perfectly clear, I am strongly in favor of that cozy picture, especially if it includes a good book, or good company, or both.
But there’s something necessary, too, in the willingness children naturally have to venture outside, to get tired and cold and hungry in the way of adventure. It makes the warmth of coming home even more wonderful.
This weekend, which is the first in the season of Ordinary Time since the start of this liturgical year, let’s watch for all those opportunities to rejoice, especially the ones that hide in plain sight. Thanks be to God for making us the kind of creatures who play in the snow. Let’s go out to meet the ordinary, festive adventures of our lives, small and great, and not be afraid.