Snowbound

Friday, I headed to King Soopers to do some shopping.  I often order groceries online, but I had a lot of coupons and the King Soopers website is far from coupon friendly.  I also like that my neighborhood store has a whole lot of yogurt and plenty of produce.  Anyhow, prognosticators had predicted a storm and the crowds in both the parking lot and the store were reminiscent of the day before Thanksgiving.

People were rushing around, cutting off fellow shoppers with their carts and throwing staples into baskets.  Several thoughts came to mind as I moved through the craziness.  

First, storms rarely materialize exactly as planned.  Sometimes they go north.  Sometimes they go south.  Conversely, some of our biggest blizzards don’t register on anyone’s radar.  Our storms – even those that hit places like Winter Park and Vail – rarely last longer than 24 hours.  We don’t live in Boston or South Bend.  For what are we stocking up?  The sun is going to shine on Sunday.

Second, hustling, bustling and getting hostile does little more than raise the collective blood pressure of those around you.  It does not stop an impending snowstorm.  It does not make cartons of milk materialize on empty shelves – although I saw two 18 wheelers pull up while I was waiting for my transportation home.  It does not make the line at checkout move more quickly.  Breathe in.  Breathe out.  Relax.

Third, how many people have cupboards are as bare as Old Mother Hubbard’s?  I have been reading the book 7: An Experimental Mutiny Against Excess by Jen Hatmaker.  Though I don’t read many books aimed at Evangelical Christian women, this one hit close to home.  In it, Hatmaker chronicles how her family made intentional cutbacks in clothing, spending, waste, possessions, media, stress, and FOOD.  I have more than enough food to last the weekend.  I think most of my middle-class neighbors do too.