February 22, 2021
As a child, I grew up in the Midwest. I can remember looking out the window in great anticipation of a snowfall. Once the snow had fallen, I climbed into my red snow suit, and made a beeline out the front door. I would build a snowman, make snow angels and build a snow fort until the sound of my mother’s voice, calling me inside for a warming session, interrupted my escapade. I don’t know what it is about kids but when fun kicks in, reason leaves and that was always the case for me.
As a teenager, I found myself rushing out the door for school only to be stopped by a snow filled car with sheets of ice on the windshield. Left to be more responsible, Often, I couldn’t find my gloves and rarely dressed appropriately for the weather which only made the situation worse. This fluffy white substance, I once loved, was now giving me the blues. Those winters as a teenager quickly led me to a much warmer climate where I was satisfied. No messy, sloppy, freezing snow. I quickly learned to love 60 degree weather during the winter and was fully satisfied.
During a visit home this winter, I ran smack dab into one of the biggest snowfall they’ve had in years. This time, I somehow had regained the same wonder I had as a child. I was fascinated by the different types of snow; the wet heavy kind, the fluffy light kind, and there was nothing more beautiful than the day the snowfall appeared as sparkly diamonds. Now, still inappropriately dress and with a new love for photography, I quickly ventured out to take some photographs of the winter wonderland.
During my expedition I found myself in tennis shoes with just a sweat shirt on tromping through several feet of snow trying to get the perfect photo. It was in that moment I realized my perspective of snow had once again changed. I was no longer frustrated with this beautiful substance but felt privileged to be in its’ presence. This adventure taught me that sometimes our view of familiar situations can change. I was holding onto my last experience because of my lack of exposure to snow as an adult.
This year, I believe we will encounter many situations in which we will find our point of view has changed. At first, we may resists and approach these situations from familiar feelings and experiences, but if we pause, and look again, we will see things no longer look the same. These familiar places and people will yield new doors of opportunity, relationships and direction. So buckle your seat belt and open your mind to new perspectives of familiar things.