"Winter is nature's way of saying, 'Up yours.'"-Robert Byrne
Another winter has come, and another storm blows through. In the blustery day filled with wind, ice, and snow, I decided to relax a bit and talk to some old friends on Facebook.
Amid a heated discussion on some self-important and nonmaterial subject, I type the well-known abbreviation, “BRB!” (Be Right Back)
Well, my “be right back” was for about an hour. In that time my discussion on how I can scientifically prove GOD’s existence erupted into an argument on how the term “supernatural” means beyond scientific understanding, so man can never understand anything that is labeled as such.
After reading the previous threads in the debate, I let myself be known.
“Hey Daniel, where have you been? We need your thoughts on all this!”
I replied, “Its blizzarding outside, and I went to shovel the snow.”
“But Daniel, you don’t need to shovel, your landlord takes care of that! Why go do it?”
It is an interesting thing, convenience. In my life, I have several conveniences and I openly admit that I take them for granted. My car is a convenient form of transportation. My telephone is a convenient way to communicate. My apartment complex, with their “Snow Shovel Crew,” conveniently clears away snow from our dooryards and driveways with predictable reliability.
"The difficult we do immediately. The impossible takes a little longer."—Motto of the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers during World War II
But sometimes, even with all the conveniences in our world, there are times we should lay aside the hard effort of others and rely on ourselves. With the blizzard in full swing, I decided to go shovel snow before it builds up too high.
I wrap myself in the necessary accoutrements, my scarf, my gloves and my “Great Coat.” I arm myself with a snow shovel and make battle with “Old Man Winter.”
I carefully begin throwing snow from our front door, past the walkway. I blaze a trail through the snow drifts to our parking spaces. I shovel fore and aft of my car in the event that I might have need to drive.
But “Old Man Winter” is a powerful foe, and does not approve of the clearing I made. Just as I sit down to recommence my discussions on Facebook, he casts his cruel gaze upon my hard efforts. With the sound of wind laughing in my ears, he begins to snow down his vengeance.
We had multiple battles before he relented. Time and time again, I make safe what he made impassable. Just as I thought my strength would fail me, his last attack ends.
Weary from the heaviness of my shovel, sore from the blows I cast upon him, I retired for the night.
Why would I persist in my unnecessary fight to keep my walkway clear?
I do it because I do not want my wife to struggle if she leaves our unit. In my love for her, I want to keep her safe and comfortable.
I do it because my next-door neighbor is an older woman who might have trouble leaving her unit. My respect for her would not allow me to ignore the trouble the winter storm would cause her.
I do it for every UPS driver, Mailman, and Federal Express delivery man who would struggle to have my packages delivered to me.
I do it for every Policeman, Fireman, and EMT who might come to our rescue in the event of an emergency.
The question of why I shovel has a rather simple answer. I do it because I am part of a community.
"Without a sense of caring, there can be no sense of community."-Anthony J. D'Angelo
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