Thoughts from the snow bound

I used to live in Buffalo.
I used to live in Chicago.
I used to live in Pennsylvania.
I've driven to western Michigan two Christmases in a row.

I've seen lots of snow.

Now I live in southern Delaware, where we don't see much snow--until this past weekend when we experienced a blizzard that would have been a blizzard in any of the locations named above, but was even more impressive because it was here.

The power here goes off under far less provocation than it had this weekend. Sometimes, it seems to go off with no provocation at all. It did threaten to shut down several times in the wee hours of Saturday morning when the wind was making sorrowful wailings around the bathroom windows that never quite keep it out. But each time, the power gathered itself together and came back on in a few seconds. And even during the worst of the storm, which didn't occur until Sunday afternoon, it stood tall and stayed the course.

Others weren't so fortunate here in my little bayside community. Some, just across the street, lost power in those wee hours when mine was flirting with me and threatening to find something else to do with its time. While I slept in warmth and comfort, they stumbled around in the increasing cold, looking for candles and flashlights.

How well I know that scenario. In a snowstorm some years ago, I had no electricity, I had no water, and couldn't even get out of my home, because the snow was so high the door wouldn't open. The fire company had to come and clear a way for me to get to common comforts and necessities.

So why was I so hesitant in offering my comfortable home to some neighbors whose landlord called to see if they could come and get warm? Why did I even have to think about it?

Years of living alone, I'm afraid, have allowed me to indulge in a degree of self-centeredness that seems to have become my default behavior. My home has become my castle, complete with a crocodiled moat and signs that proclaim Private Property, No Trespassing.

There's no doubt that I'm a classic introvert, and that is something over which I have little control. I also live with something called anxiety disorder, for which I take medication, and that has significantly improved my ability to deal with my anxiety. However, when faced with an emergency or a situation about which I have inadequate information, these two things jump to the fore instantaneously.

After the landlord hung up, obviously disappointed that I hadn't immediately invited his tenants to come to my home, my lack of response caught up with me and I had what I hope was a moment of grace, when I saw myself in their shoes, saw myself as I know myself to be, and was able to take another path. I called my neighbors and invited them over. We had coffee and apple pie together and a pleasant visit where we got to know each other. With the help of other neighbors, we found a unit whose absent owners gave permission for them to spend the night there, with heat and light and a far greater degree of comfort than they would have had in their own home.

I've learned over the years that this is what repentance really means--to turn and walk in another direction. I learned yesterday that my need for it never seems to end. It may be, and probably will be, that my ability to control my first responses will still be inevitably influenced by my introversion and my anxiety issues. These are things over which I have only limited control. But what I trust will also be is that God will continue to allow me those moments of grace when I see myself as I know myself to be and will be able to turn and walk in another direction.