It was just three years ago, this week, that we experienced one of those sudden and shocking changes: It almost snowed on us ... in June.
We had been cruising the ocean along the eastern coast of Canada. That day, our port of call was Sydney (Cape Breton, Nova Scotia). The weather report called for a dry 61° Fahrenheit, high clouds, and some sun. A light jacket would be all that was needed.
All went well in the morning; but as the afternoon settled in, we saw the clouds darkening and dropping low. The temps dropped with them. Zipping up our windbreakers, we decided to walk back to the ship. In short order, we found ourselves struggling against a stiff, cold wind.
And a chilling mist.
We weren’t actually far from the ship. But the weather changed so quickly, it was worsening the closer we got. Locals we encountered told us they had just heard there might be snow on the way. In June. None of them appeared the least bit surprised.
I am not a winter person.
And my years living in New England has done nothing but reinforce my negative feelings about the cold. Cars that wouldn't start, constantly falling down on slick surfaces, impassable roads, power outages, being late to ... well, everything; never, ever getting warm enough. And, worst of all, the claustrophobic feeling it would never end.
But ...
Summer in New England, and the few weeks that bookend either side of it, is a lovely time. Very Robert Frost. When winter does finally end, everyone feels an uplift in spirit; joy fills every heart. A kind of collective amnesia overtakes, clouding the harsher memories of winter.
So, deep in the winter, people think of the spring to come, of the green grass, flowers, and the planting of gardens. They think of the warm days of summer and the eventual harvest.
They have hope.
They know that every inch of snow piled upon the ground throughout the winter is actually stored water, just waiting for spring to release it. Water that brings life to the land, the plants, the animals, and all of us humans who could not survive without it.
This week’s Romans passage talks about a "hope that does not disappoint." Such hope is more than just a wish; it is a confidence that good will come. The passage asserts that, by enduring our sufferings, we gain character ... the kind of character that can hope, unreservedly, in the belief that our faith is not misplaced.
On that day of sudden chill, our ship pulled away from the port and headed out to sea. As we stood on the back deck, we watched the port shrink to toy-size, then ornament size. Soon, we left lowering clouds behind. Above us, patches of sun-drenched cerulean blue began to appear. Within ten minutes of leaving, I could stand on the deck without a jacket ... not a cloud in sight.
Regardless of their length or severity, we must not let bouts of bad weather —our sufferings— distract us from the hope that does not disappoint. Our faith is our storehouse of that hope. And it will see us through our winters.
Even really brief ones.
Even in June.
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Portions of this reflection are borrowed from a June 2017 reflection titled Snow in June?! and a 2014 reflection titled Winter is Coming.
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READINGS FOR THE COMING WEEK
Proper 6 (11) (June 14, 2020)
https://lectionary.library.vanderbilt.edu//texts.php?id=146
Genesis 18:1-15, (21:1-7)
Psalm 116:1-2, 12-19
Exodus 19:2-8a
Psalm 100
Romans 5:1-8
Matthew 9:35-10:8, (9-23)
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According to the calendar, Summer is just around the corner (Summer heat is already in Texas ... We hit triple digits this week). DaySpring’s Lectionary Breakfast remains on hiatus. We all look forward to the time we can gather in person. Until then, enjoy the coming week’s scriptures. Keep praying and keep safe.
Blessings,
Steve
❤️
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