Dismal foreboding.
I popped onto my Facebook feed this morning, and it was everywhere.
Well not everywhere, it was from my local friends, the metro-area Minnesotans, announcing the arrival of snow that would soon reach my neighborhood.
Two years ago on October 14, a photo session had me driving through the countryside, where I witnessed the most magical snow-on-colored leaves scene, knowing it would be melted by the time I met my client. I recorded the video in my mind, knowing there would be other October snows. Last year? First flakes, October 13. Same story.
Today? Clear schedule. When I heard the communal moan, I had a few minutes to get my stuff together, choose a location, and dash out the door feeling like one who dances on graves. But not sorry.
People seem surprised and appalled every year when October snow comes. Why? Because it's melted by noon, and they forget it's even a thing, so by the next year it seems impossibly early and ominous.
We seem a little more testy yet this year, like if one more thing happens we didn't foresee, that will be the one that puts us over the edge.
We have had life this summer. Gatherings outside, dinner on patios, "safely distanced" time with friends. If ever we were not ready for winter, this is the year. We feel like it might leave us undone and alone.
When I heard the Facebook outcry, I also heard the voice of God (well not audibly, but experientially) saying, "I'm about to do some serious showing off if you'd care to join me for it."
It's a voice I've heard in the Bible--
"Do not be afraid."
"I am with you always."
"Be still and know that I am God."
A voice I've experienced as reliably as snow in October.
These are times of foreboding around us. I wonder if maybe God has some ideas up his sleeve that we haven't thought of.
Honestly, I'm counting on it. Remind us, Lord, that you have always delighted to show up between rocks and hard places. Though it's something we never seek, when October snow comes, it's breathtaking.
We believe, Lord. Help our unbelief.
