A year and a half ago, my exhusband moved out of the house and sold the snowblower he had bought the previous winter. It wasn't a big deal to me at the time--it was too large for our house anyway, and he really needed the money to make the move. But when the first winter came without it--and without his help to shovel the long driveway--I wasn't so happy about his decision. I made it through the winter: paying the 17-year-old neighbor across the street some cash, and even ran out the door in my pajamas one morning to throw some money at the landlord who owns the house next door in exchange for a clear driveway. I had other help--the woman next door in her 80s would run her snowblower across the sidewalk between us and make a single path up my driveway so I could at least escape city fines and walk out of the house without needing to change my jeans. And I even once borrowed the snowblower from my friend across the street--and we promised each other we'd go in on brand new one two share for next winter.
Well next winter is here. The first major snow was overnight and I rushed to work the next morning--not getting my shovel out until dark just to do the sidewalk, and then three days later to clean up the driveway. But today, the snow's been falling steadily for nearly 24 hours. It's beautiful to watch out the window--covering everything in a glittery white. And even when I went outside to begin the shoveling, I couldn't resist picking the fluffy snow up in my hands--so light it seemed fake.
I began the shoveling job by creating a path from the back door to the garage--just enough so I could walk to the car with ease. And then I began on the driveway. My heart has been weary lately, so I had to stop every couple of rows to take a breath or two--it tires easily, I believe, because it is carrying so much worry instead of Trust. But I kept on--and while I worked thoughts passed and some I would hold on to for a minute, some I would let go of. "Maybe I should move to a warmer climate" or "maybe living in an apartment downtown would save me from the job of shoveling." And then other thoughts came and went as I watched my neighbor with her old snowplow and thought about how the houses on this end of my street are all owned by women who take care of things on their own: their houses, their kids, themSelves. And I thought about how lucky we are that we are such capable women, and also how lucky we are to have people who support us in many different ways. We may not have partners helping us shovel or snowblow our driveways, but we have family to celebrate with, neighbors to laugh with, and kids to keep us young-at-heart.
And as I'm thinking these thoughts, a truck with a plow hitched to its front end drives down my street. I stop to watch as its driver slows and I think "it would be amazing if he backed up and plowed my driveway." Almost in tandem with my thoughts, the driver hit reverse and pulled into my driveway. I looked up at him--covered in snow, red shovel in my hand--and smiled. "Let me help you with that," he shouted down to me. And I watched, wide-eyed and full of awe as he pushed and pulled the snow and drove off. "THANK YOU," I yelled into the air, his truck already making the turn off my street. And I laughed--big open laughter--and said to myself, "I'm the luckiest girl in the world!"
I finished the sidewalk in minutes, exchanged awed conversation with my neighbor, hung up the shovel and cried. So very, very grateful to the Snow Angel that helped me today and reminded me that support and love is out there in so many different ways. We are not alone. Not one of us. The world is full of just the people and opportunities we need. If you believe that what you need will come to you, if you Trust that magic can happen--then it will.
May we all be blessed in the new year. Cheers.