Here's Pastor Dave McDowell's weekly devotional that he sends out to members of his church. Dave is my brother and serves as the Music Minister at Stewartstown UMC in PA.
It's nice to have snow days,
but what do you do when you run out of them?
During the mother of all winters
in the year of our Lord, 2013-14,
in south central Pennsylvania,
it is now March 26 and we received yet another snowfall.
Though the calendar says spring,
the thermometer and the white on the ground say otherwise.
I know I run the risk of sounding like an old codger when I say.
"That's not how it was back in the day."
Oh, I am not talking about harsh winters.
We had plenty of them.
I am talking about snow days.
I remember winters when cars disappeared under drifts in the driveway.
I remember when snowcover from December to February was common.
I remember sitting in school during the afternoon after 3 inches had already fallen,
and not being dismissed early.
What I don't remember is going to school till the end of June,
Because we didn't.
Because we didn't have to.
Something has changed.
And I don't think it is just about climate.
I think it is about perspective.
A few weeks ago,
I visited my dying uncle one last time.
There is a sacredness in knowing you are very likely
speaking to a person for the last time on this side of the river.
We had a wonderful visit.
We chatted about family memories,
about his comfort level,
about his life,
especially about his years before I was born.
Somehow the topic of all the spent snow days arose.
I asked him,
"Uncle Quinton, did you ever have snow days as a child?"
He smiled.
Looking into his eyes,
I knew I was about to venture into a world far removed from 2014.
After all, he was 97 years old.
He was born in 1917 so his school days would have been during the 1920's.
And school meant a one-room school house.
"Snow days?" he said with a half laugh.
"My goodness, we never had a snow day!"
"Well, what did you do when it snowed?" I asked.
"On days that it snowed, my father would bring the horse out of the stable,
harness a log to it, and ride to school.
All the kids in the neighborhood would follow along in the path
carved out by the log." he said matter-of-factly.
"We never missed school."
I looked at him and said,
"Uncle Quinton, you were the toughest generation."
There was a twinkle in his eye,
that even the cancer could not take away.
My respect for him had grown to even more than what it had been.
After all, this was a man who.......
had served our country during the war as a pilot in the Air Force,
who met his wife at a church musical and courted her thereafter,
who dared to make a real commitment to her by marrying her before living with her,
and through the 68 years of their marriage, his wife never ceased to be his girlfriend.
And he never took a snowday. Never.
Some would say,
times were simpler then.
Yes, they were,
but they were also harsher.
I don't recall ever having to fire up the wood stove in a bone chilling school
before commencing with grammar lessons.
I don't recall only receiving a pencil and an orange for Christmas
and being happy about it.
I don't recall having to light candles in the school house in order to read
because daytime snowstorms made it seem like night time.
But I didn't go to school in the 1920's.
Life was considerably more comfortable by the 1960's,
and even moreso now in the new millenium.
Are we softer as a culture?
No doubt.
Has that helped us?
I'm not so sure......
My uncle had it considerably tougher,
but he didn't have to worry about a gunman disrupting his schoolday and life.
My uncle didn't have computers to assist his learning,
but he learned enough about discipline and hardwork to forge a very successful career.
My uncle didn't have a cell phone to constantly text his girlfriend-to-be- wife,
but he knew how to communicate with her to cause their marriage to last a lifetime.
We think about things differently when there are no snow days left to spare.
I've noticed our children going to school during the last few weeks
when similar conditons previously kept them safely at
home in front of their videogames and I phones.
Funny how circumstances can influence perspective,
especially when you are down to your last snowdays, let alone last days.
As we were reminiscing with my uncle,
we were talking about the challenges of aging.
I mentioned that I wished there was a cure for aging.
We the twinkle still in his eye, my uncle said,
"There is,
it's called passing on."
Now there is someone who knew how to live,
so that he knew how to die.
My uncle was not overly verbal about his faith,
but his life spoke volumes about what it meant to live
as an obedient child of God.
Thanks for teaching me so much Uncle Quinton.
I will think of you each and every snow day.
I'm sure you aren't having those where you are now.
Oh wait,
you wouldn't anyway.
Toughest generation ever......
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