“Whose woods these are I think I know,
His house is in the village though.
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.”
Every time we get a snow of any degree, I pull out my volume of Robert Frost poems and walk into the woods and read that one titled something like “Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening.” Even those not familiar with it know the last part…
“…but I have miles to go before I sleep, And miles to go before I sleep.”
We woke up granddaughter Leah Peters, our first-born, now 19 years old, down from New Hampshire for a week, and said, “Thank you for bringing the snow!” She sleepily came to the front door and looked out at a world all too familiar to every New Englander, rubbed the nighttime out of her eyes and said, “You’re welcome,” then went back to bed.
The complication for me is that I’m trying to drive north to Jackson, Mississippi today for the memorial service for Dr. Frank Pollard, scheduled for 2 pm at the First Baptist Church. I’ve assured Margaret if the roads get too bad, I’ll turn around. And I’ve given my cell phone number to Mary Glass in Jackson and asked her to let me know if she learns the service has been postponed. I don’t want to miss this opportunity to express my deep appreciation for such a dear brother in Christ.
In the daily call to my nearly 93-year-old mom on the Alabama farm, I was exulting about the snow. She said, “West Virginia ruined you!” We laughed at that.
Our family lived on a mountaintop six miles out from Beckley, WV, from late 1947 into the summer of 1951. This means from the time I was 7 until 11, we lived in snow country. It gets in your blood, some of our readers know, and then when the Lord moves you back down South and you never see snow again, you feel something vital has gone from your life.
A funny memory about our West Virginia years has to do with a sled. The six children in our brood had no sled. But that was never a problem. When the snow fell, everyone would meet on top of the hill and build a giant fire in an oil drum. Those with sleds would ride them off the hill. By the time they returned, they were frozen and needed time by the fire. That’s when we borrowed their sleds. It worked fine and there was never a problem.
Finally, for Christmas 1950, our family got a sled, a beautiful full-length thing. From that moment on, no more snow fell in our part of the world for the rest of that winter. When we moved back to Alabama in the summer of ’51, we moved the new, unused sled with us. It sat in the garage for years, rusting.
That was so hard on this kid.
Sometime in the early 1990s–I forget which year–the forecast called for snow in lower Mississippi, but none for metro New Orleans. (They never forecast snow for New Orleans due to the unpredictability of weather patterns for this strip of the earth.) Anyway…
That morning I told Margaret, “I’m taking the day off and driving north to find the snow.” I drove up Interstate 55 all the way to Jackson, nearly 200 miles (I’m almost embarrassed to write this even now). Finally, the snow was falling. I sat in the Cracker Barrel restaurant in front of the huge fire and watched it snow outside, then began driving south.
To my amazement, the snow came with me. In McComb, halfway home, whiteout conditions prevailed. The snow must have been 6 inches deep by then. And, weird as it seems, the snow came with me all the way to LaPlace, Louisiana, which is the southern terminus of the interstate and only 15 miles west of my house. I could almost have stayed at home and enjoyed the snow!
Because I’m a hotshot preacher, no one teased me about this—but had we all been junior-high-ers, I’d never have heard the last of it!!
So, thank you, Lord, for the wonders of your creation. Bless those who are cold and those who are ministering to them. And those who drive in these conditions.
Update: Dad thought better of driving to Jackson in such poor weather, and called to tell me he was staying home to enjoy the snow. – Marty
Yesterday, Steve and I made an observation with regards to snow and people. As we were leaving our home, people were looking out their doors with huge smiles on their faces and waving to others as they passed by. Something about the snow brings out the “kid” in people. It seems that all the hurts, disappointments and frustrations of life seem to temporarily dissappear for awhile. Thanks God for the encouragement that you send us through simple things like…SNOW!
Hi Joe,
We haven’t had snow since well—-yesterday!
It is a beautiful thing to be able to enjoy a white Christmas- reminding us the purity of Jesus.
It is another thing to shovel the driveway and plow the roads for the next 4 months. It melts New Orleans. It overstays its welcome here in Minnesota!
Joe,
I was flying to New Orleans when the snow forced our plane to Nashville. It had something to do with the failure of the de-icing equipment at Louis Armstrong. I had to spend the night in Nashville and fly on to New Orleans on Friday. It was a balmy 47 and there wasn’t a snowflake in sight.
Ben
As a person who never saw snow like we had on the Northshore before in her life- I have to say it made every thing look exquisitely beautiful.
Honestly, I could really get used to it. Our family stayed outside for two days. We had 5 inches of snow Thurday so it stayed around for Friday.
My hubby spent some of his childhood in Missouri and he laments that we have no reason to move north and I now understand why.
Joe,
Our little four year old granson, Canon, who lives in Westwego had never seen “live” snow before. Our son tells us that Canon looked out the window, smiled, and announced, “It’s Christmas!”
Since I was unable to get up Interstate 55 to Jackson, Mississippi,for the memorial service for Dr. Pollard, I spent the day with family. My daughter-in-law Julie called to see if I could pick up the three grands (Grant, Abby, and Erin) from school. By 10:30 am, they were practically the last ones at their school. We came to my house, built a fire in the fire place, and toasted marshmallows. But they had to get out in the snow, so grandma fixed them up with gloves and scarves. A little later, they were inside warming, and clamoring for me to take them to their house. They wanted a snowman on their own lawn.
In the afternoon, granddaughter Leah and I took in a movie–we both like light fare, so we went to see Madagascar II–and then we ran by Cafe du Monde on Veterans in Metairie so I could introduce her to cafe au lait and beignets. We’re in the line at the counter and lo-and-behold, Bryan Harris and his eldest daughter Aleesa are there. Bryan pastors North Hills Baptist Church in Vallejo, California, and was youth minister in two of our pastorates (FBC Columbus MS and Charlotte NC). He was Leah’s mom’s youth minister in Columbus and so I was able to introduce the two of them. Aleesa Harris received her masters degree Saturday from our New Orleans Baptist Theological Seminary.
We had a terrific snow day. By nightfall, the sleet and then the rain had dissolved almost all the snow, but it had been a wonderful gift.
Dear Joe,
I was sorry to hear of the death of Frank Pollard. He grew up out in West Texas at Olney, down the road a ways from Paint Creek. I remember the story that he told about when he surrendered to preach as a teen age boy. His mother was very active in church, but his dad didn’t get saved until later in life. His dad took him aside and told him, “Son, whatever you do, don’t make the Christians mad.”
I have just retired from the pastorate(not the ministry), after 37 years of preaching, but there have been more than a few times when I remembered those words of wisdom from the mouth of a lost man. Unfortumately, we don’t always conduct ourselves like we should.
Keep up the good work, Joe.
Jimmy Griffith
I’m sure someone out there has written a Sunday message, perhaps titled “Sermon in the Snow.”
“Though our sins be as scarlet…”