Snow Days

This week in Philadelphia we have had record breaking snow. Other than the dripping in my dining room from a snow blocked gutter, my husband and I spent two wonderful days together at home where the severe weather conditions gave us permission to watch movies, bake bread, play Scrabble, and catch up on email. I took some photos from my window including this one of the snow covered branches, marveling at the beauty and brightness of our surroundings. But the storm had another side, too, and that was made very real to me when I received a call from Sam on Thursday telling me that yet another life had been lost on the street.

His name was Bruce and he slept on the side of the church. Though Bruce was not one to come inside, he did speak to a number of us, including church members who would give him blankets and coffee. Bruce was found in an abandoned building where the snow had gotten in. He had been dead for several days when he was found.

In the short six weeks that I have been writing this blog, three of my entries have included people who died. I have not even written about John, whom I visited in Intensive Care and who also almost died from the cold.

Something is strangely out of balance here.

People should not be freezing to death.

I remember talking to one formerly homeless person after had he just moved into his apartment. He had lived on the Parkway for eighteen years and it took some adjustment after he had moved inside. One of the most difficult things, he shared, was being inside when there was bad weather. He told me that whenever it rained, he would go to the window and think about everyone that was still on the street. He said that it was hard for him to enjoy his new home when he knew there were so many still outside with no where to go. A type of survivor's guilt, maybe, but perhaps what he felt was the embodiment of Project H.O.M.E.'s motto that "None of us is home until all of us are home."

So snow days have new meaning for me. I still love the slower pace, the kids sledding and building snow sculptures. I love the way the neighbors come together on my street to see who needs what and the informal block party that happens on "dig out day." I love the way the snow sparkles in the sun like the coarse sugar I use to decorate my cookies. But I can't help but wonder who is out in the cold, alone and needing help.

And silently I pray the Serenity Prayer, asking especially for the wisdom to change the things I can.