My Life with God

Jump In Deep

The snow drift was deeper than I thought.

During a recent snowstorm, not everyone could make it into the office for work. I live close to work, but it was difficult to get out of my driveway for a couple days with the snow blowing and drifting. A couple people volunteered to pick some of us up. The work trucks were big and tall and could handle some drifts.

As we pulled up in front of my house the second day, the last third of my driveway was completely covered in a deep drift. But it only looked about a foot deep from my higher vantage point. I didn’t have many options, so I opened the door and jumped into the drift.

It was about three times as deep as what I thought. I waded through, walked inside, changed my clothes, and returned outside to tackle the drift. The wind was dying down, and I thought I could dig a wide enough swathe that if it drifted a little or the road plow pushed some snow back toward my house, I’d still have enough room to drive in and out.

As I shoveled, I was once again reminded of the depth of the heavy snow. It took a little longer than I expected, but I stood back and sighed in satisfaction. I texted my temporary driver and let him know I could handle it on my own in the morning. I didn’t have trouble in the coming days.

I had appreciated the help. I also appreciated the effort I had to put in to clear my way. I was also grateful for the reminder that we (1) have support, (2) need to be willing to put forth effort, and (3) sometimes underestimate what we’re jumping into.

It amazes me that God was aware of every single snowflake and every gust of wind and connected people willing to help.

I went to bed that night with gratitude (and a bit of exhaustion).

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s