Snowstorm Stella came, and she didn't disappoint. The children are having their second snow day this week, and we are in the midst of digging ourselves out from under the biggest snowfall we've seen since we moved back up North eleven years ago.
The snow was past the knees of our little ones yesterday morning.
It was up past my knees yesterday afternoon.
We had to shovel out doors and vehicles and animals.
It continued to snow a bit through the night, and the children can now crouch in the shoveled paths and let the wind blow the snow right over the tops of them. They say they're crawling in the trenches.
This snow has covered outdoor benches, picnic tables, patio chairs, and most of our chicken tractor. You can barely see where the front porch begins because the snow is higher than the steps and nearly level with the porch floor.
Other than driving our daughter to the orthodontist later today, I'm staying inside, content to watch the blowing, drifting snow through our farmhouse windows. I'm feeling rather contemplative and am re-reading some books on discovering and living your dreams. Like the daffodils that had sprouted a few inches but are now covered with two feet of snow, I think the dreams of my younger self have been buried for years under decades of birthing, nursing, and mothering young children. I can feel the seasons of my life changing though, transitioning and morphing into something new that I want to more clearly see and define.
Just as clearing paths in this snow helps us find what was buried underneath, I find myself needing to uncover dreams from long ago that got put on the back burner because my family needed so much of me for so many years. Even though life is still full of activities and responsibilities and obligations, and our farmhouse is full of children and life and growth, there are now some nooks and crannies of my day that are free for me to dream again. I can take out those buried dreams and brush them off and pursue them again, or I can dream up something new. I'm more aware than I've ever been that I've still probably got half of my life to live, and I don't want to waste it all on mindless tasks, errands and shopping, and social media consumption. I want to make sure I am living purposefully, and that is what I'm pondering these days.
Nelson Mandela said it better than I:
"What counts in life is not the mere fact that we have lived. It is what difference we have made to the lives of others that will determine the significance of the life we lead."
I'm praying that all of you hit by Stella are finding your way out of the mounds of snow today, and I'm hoping that all of you readers everywhere are living your dreams to the fullest.