Children

Today, a snow day, and thoughts of children come to mind. You do not just turn off the quarter century of raising your own, and teaching other children. And when the snow day comes, well, it is always at just the right time, for mothers, the chance to spend the day baking cookies, playing games, doing things meant for no other day. For teachers, the day of reprieve, to breathe, stay on the home front, or run errands (we couldn't get to work, but we can surely get to the mall:), be domestic, make the house a home, do the laundry, make a fire, whatever simple joy can come, a snow day brings. I must admit that today the tears and gut wrenching sobs came, some from pain of loss, some from happier times, times when I would never have suspected what my heart could hold, times when the freedom of a snow day came and revived us all in some magnificent way. You could close the day off and just be with the ones you loved and just BE. For me, now, every day could be a snow day if I choose, and I am grateful. But for this day, memories are raging, sometimes swallowing me up, sometimes washing over me, both at the same time.

Snow days are for children, young and old. They mean different things to each one of us. If you asked my girls, the response would probably be centered around food or games, we always baked cookies and colored pictures or played games. And if it was a GOOD snow day (unlike today, when we barely received what was predicted, yet St. Louis folks still stock up on bread and milk, as if we are going into full seclusion), we would play outside and pile the clothes and towels at the front door, hence, causing a laundry pile-up. But it didn't matter, there were never any worries or fights on snow days! We were happy, the house was warm, and the kitchen smelled oh, so good!

Yes, snow days are for children, which brings me to thinking of us mothers. If we had to work, and the children were home for a snow day, what a chain reaction of what to do...call in the relatives, or does Dad stay home, can they stay with friends, what do we do? Same with when they would be sick, what do we do? Do we leave them home, do we call the grandparents, do we stay home, too, what do we do? Mothers are so unique in their relationship and care and concern for their children, and today, as I heard from more than one friend about their situations with their children, now grown, and out of the "snow day" age, I couldn't help but think of the precious gift we have, with our sons and daughters. I couldn't help but think about how their every breath is ours, how we are in tune with their joys and challenges, and how the mere sound of their voice on the phone can send ripples of reality right to our core. We know the minute we hear it whether we should prepare to be joyous, sad, encouraging, whether we need to impart some knowledge and experience to help them in their decisions, whether it is time for a little discipline, or whether it is the simple listening ear that they need. We know it when they don't call, also. We know what the silence of the phone means, how the hours or days can go by and we don't hear that familiar voice, we know whether it means they are so entrenched in their own activities or lives, or whether they need a little space. We just know, our soul tells us so.

I remember many phone calls from both daughters over the years, and I can tell, in an instant, with the "Hi Mom", whether I needed to be concerned or happy. I can share many stories, but anyone who is a mother already knows, without example, just what I mean. And naturally, the one call that stands out the most, and changed my life forever, was THE call, the one from Chicago, when Allison walked eight, huge Chicago style blocks to a hospital, in freezing cold temperatures and snowflakes falling, and was admitted with breathing problems and a pneumonia diagnosis. I hear her voice, to this day, and the way it sounded, when she said, "Hi Mom". I knew what I knew, and I didn't panic, I didn't rush up there until the next morning, alongside of Joe, we took our time, we enjoyed the ride, yet we were filled with the anxiety any parent faces when about to tend and care for a child in need. Through it all, from the minute she first called, she didn't want us alarmed, told us to take our time, she would be okay. She was right, and as the next eleven weeks passed, with a parent continually by her side, we faced the joys and challenges that came our way. She had many snow days in her final weeks with us, one "real" one, many just in her mind, and she was celebrated and laid to rest on a day that would have brought her immense joy, a magnificent ice and snowy day, one where I can only hope she smelled the cookies, felt the freedom, the joys, the peace, the love that can only be captured on a "Snow Day".

Children deserve a snow day, and so do adults, today I am thanking God for the many I have experienced.