I live an hour away from the nearest Starbucks. I think I’ve mentioned that before. But, this winter I’ve become even more aware of how far we are from such things. Between me and the nearest latte are miles and miles of curving blacktop roads. Plus several small towns, a couple of creeks, and a loooooooong bridge across the Mighty Mississippi River. It’s a good think I don’t really like coffee.
I probably wouldn’t go to Starbucks often even if it were next door. Some days, I’d like to have the option, though. Don’t get me wrong. I love where we live. We chose to move to this intentional community in the middle of the cornfield because we hoped to make a difference in troubled lives. Most of the time, I love the quiet. The lack of traffic. The ability to walk just about anywhere I need to go. (If I’m so inclined.)
But then, the economy tanked. I listen to Fox News every morning, so I know the nation is in trouble. I know people are out of jobs, losing homes, and worried about how to put a meal on the table. I have empathy for that, and I pray for solutions. I didn’t really feel the crunch personally, though.
Until we lost our salt. Budget cuts in our state mean the road crews are no longer salting the secondary roads when a snowstorm hits. Have I mentioned we are surrounded by secondary roads? We have to take at least two secondaries to reach a Primary, if there is such a thing.
It is amazing how this impacts my life. In the past, we might stay home on the first day of a storm while the roads were being cleared. But, by Day Two, we could go anywhere we pleased. Not this year. Seven days after the last storm, the roads were still so nasty I drove below the speed limit all the way to the bank thirty miles away. And I gave up the idea of a Friday night out-of-town date with my husband.
I was tempted to be annoyed by this issue. And then I realized how ludicrous that is. How entitled my mentality has become. Nobody owes me any salt. I don’t have a fundamental right to clear roads or expensive coffee. In fact, it is probably quite healthy for me to be reminded that I’m not entitled to any of the things I take for granted.
So, I’m stocking up at the local convenience store for the predicted ice storm this week. And, I’m reveling in my cozy home. And I’m concentrating on the scripture that says to be grateful if you have food and clothes.
Because, that’s enough.
I have not heard that saying for years. I Googled it and found it meant for a man to be worth his wages. You are certainly “worth your salt” in my book! Do you know they sell Starbuck’s ground coffee in the stores? You can brew your own next time you are iced in. When I went to Chicago, I was introduced to the mocha frappuccino, which is harder to duplicate, although I have tried a few times. Remember reading The Long Winter? I used to read it every winter. It made me grateful for all my blessings.
Yes! The rope tied from the house to the barn so they wouldn’t get lost in the blizzard. I remember that book well.
I love your grateful attitude. I’ve noticed people in New York City gripe about winter too. I think it’s hard on everyone. I have to admit it’s been easy for me this year, though. I’m sorta in a winter sort of season, you know, and it’s going to be so fun to hit spring metaphorically and for real – all at the same time.
It’s really amazing how easily we fall into the “entitled” mentality. Thanks for the reminder to be grateful and thankful — especially since others are facing really hard times these days! Here in our city, the news continues to report that the homeless shelters are overflowing on these bitter cold nights. And… I almost always read “The Long Winter” every winter — for the same reason — it makes me extremely grateful!
Kathy,
I can’t think of anyone more “worth their salt” than you and Wendell but I do love and appreciate the way you have put all this.
It is amazing to me just exactly what we can find ourselves feeling “entitled” to these days.
I find myself actually wishing it would snow, and ice and shut the world down for a few days.
I know. I’m wierd. š
Andrea, I don’t think you are weird at all. Snow days can be lovely.