Early last week the word 'snow' was first mentioned by a hobby forecaster after a random model run; the post went viral locally. The 'real' meteorologists were quick to nip the hype, reminding us hopefuls that the system was just too far out to accurately predict. In other words, some models were indicating that something was possibly headed this way at sometime in the future. And no one knew if that something would be rain, sleet or snow.
I followed the weather reports closely. As the weekend approached, the forecast increased the chances for winter-like precipitation. Still no one was willing to say the word snow. Then on Sunday, the forecast models were in agreement: there was a high probability the entire Gulf Coast, from Texas to the Florida panhandle, would get snow.
I have fond memories of childhood snow days. My always no-nonsense Marine father melted into a kid when snow flurries began to fall. He'd keep looking out the window to see if the snow was sticking and accumulating. When the snow finally stopped, we'd layer up in winter clothes and head outside. We'd frolic in the snow and launch snowballs. However, the single most important part of any snowfall was to collect enough 'clean snow' so my mother could make snow cream.
As an adult, I lived in northern Virginia, where we got snow just about every winter. Despite the hassle of digging out and the headache it caused commuting, I'd always get giddy. Two years in a row, I experienced actual blizzards, complete with white-out conditions and record-breaking snowfalls; it was awesome. Then I moved to Pensacola in 1984 and the only snowfall we've had was a 'dusting' in 1993.
The day before the winter storm was to arrive, my sister and I were talking about what we needed to do to prepare, which included having the ingredients for snow cream on hand. We both hoped there'd be enough 'clean snow.'
By Tuesday morning, significant snow was falling in the states to our west. Our trusted meteorologist posted that there was a potential for this to be a 'historical snow event.' For the first time in 40 years, I was giddy about a weather forecast. I busted out my leftover hurricane snacks, tossed a Duraflame log in the fireplace, and settled back to wait for the snow.
And I waited. For hours. Social media posts showed snow falling all around me, but nothing was happening outside my window. Unexpectedly, my excitement waned and disappointment crept in. What if it wasn't going to snow here?
I chided myself. I knew better than get excited about something. Especially about something as silly as a snowfall. Discouraged, I flopped in my chair. God knew the child-like longings of my heart, yet once again, it appeared the answer was going to be a big, fat no. I sulked for a few minutes.
"What am I doing?" I jumped up. "God isn't a God who says no just because He can. If the answer is no, He has a reason."
Then I realized that God couldn't answer a question I hadn't asked. Scripture tells us we can ask Him for anything. So I whispered, "Lord, if it's your will, would you let it snow? Just enough for snow cream?"
A short time later, little white flakes floated lightly down from the sky. I did a childish happy dance. The snow fell faster and heavier. Soon, the ground was covered.
I layered up in my winter clothes and ventured outside where my neighbors were frolicking with their kids. It didn't take long for the bitter cold to make my bones physically hurt. I excused myself and headed inside. But before I kicked off my snow-covered boots, I grabbed a big soup pot from my kitchen cabinet and went out to my patio where snow was piled high on a chair. Just like my father used to do, I carefully scooped the 'clean snow' unit the pot was full. Inside, I carefully mixed the snow in with the cream mixture, just like my mother always did, using the spoon she always used.
I filled a bowl and took my first taste: the snow cream didn't disappoint.
The official snowfall for Pensacola was 8.9 inches. Immeasurably more clean snow than I asked God for — and abundantly more snow cream than I could have imaged.
Now to Him who is able to do far more abundantly beyond all that we ask or think, according to the power that works within us, to Him be the glory in the church and in Christ Jesus to all generations forever and ever. Amen. - Ephesians 3: 20-21
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