A Cold Day in the Bible Belt

Days like today make me want to read a little Jonathan Edwards. Because as I sit in a foul, wet-dog smelling mini-van in the midst of traffic on the way to carpool I think God must be angry after all. 

We are helplessly being whipped from all directions by the cruel icy droplets of God’s wrath. 

Every car around me shows the hunched shoulders and pulled face of a driver bone cold and wet. No one is singing. No one dances. This weather sucks. 

The school’s population seems to have doubled as carpool lasts longer than the life of Cain. 

Oh, and school might again be cancelled tomorrow. Because the ice cold rain might get colder and turn to ice. Oh what wickedness hath brought this torment?

We arrive home grumbling though unscathed. There is wine in the refrigerator, but it must sit unsipped still as dance practice looms.

“Do your homework,” I tell the children.  I try to find something uplifting on Facebook. 

I fail.

Look at these murders committed by children.

My whole family is vomiting, I think we are all going to die.

Parents are calling 911 on each other because people freaking suck and would rather turn you in than watch out for your kid for two seconds. 

But don’t get sucked into that ‘Free Range’ world, because here are a couple stories about kids that died when the parents looked away for two seconds.

“Mom, Can I have an afternoon snack?” 

“I so do not care.”

The child stares at me confused. “Wait, what? So, I can have anything?” 

“I do not...” -oh yeah, I’m not supposed to let my inner monologue parent-

(more chipper this time) “Um! SURE! Sweetheart!! Have something healthy though!! Can I make something for you? Apple? Orange? Shamrock shaped spinach roles?” 

He still stares. I think I overcompensated. 

He takes an apple from the counter and slowly backs away. 

I put the wine from the fridge to the counter, to let it get to room temperature, because the time is soon when it may be opened. But for now it sits there cruelly teasing me like a... like a... like a really mean person that likes to tease. Cuz they are mean and teasing is mean. So, the wine is mean because that’s how it sits.  The weather is killing my creativity. 

It is cold and wet and sucky and my house smells of wet dog. It's only afternoon and yet the outside is blackening. The darkness is a gluttonous traveler, slowly eating and sucking away the light as it descends upon our home. 

Even the wine couldn’t help me now. 

The journeyman and his chilling clouds have permeated the windows and doors and are threatening to possess us all. Entering through our eyes and nostrils, the darkness will fill our minds, break our spirits and freeze our souls. God has unleashed the Evil One, surely there is no salvation left. 

I hold my hands before me and scream to the cold(in my best Scarlet O’Hara accent):

“GET BACK SATAN! COME TO ME, MY CHILDREN FOR WE MUST REPENT! SURELY HELL IS UPON US!!”

I notice my daughter has taken my cell phone. She is calling their father. That is probably a good move. 

I open my wine. 

That is also a good move. 

Jonathan Edwards was a Yankee the wine tells me. God is happy. 
And the South will rise again.