When it came time for me to finally leave my warm, cozy apartment yesterday morning, my gold-and-white hoodie turned absolutely blue the instant I stepped out into the snow storm that had billowed up from the depths.
Seeing as how I have yet to fully adjust from the tropical climate Jamaica afforded me for two years, this frozen hell-water only served to remove my capacity to walk, talk, think, or, really, verb in any normal sense of the word (Or words, as it may be). No, any and all verbs were quickly replaced by the singular, all-encompassing verb of shiver.
I shivered to my classes. I shivered to my professors. I shivered notes. I shivered food. I was quite shivered with shivering by the time I shivered my classes for the day. Oh, blimy, I shivered to myself as I shivered to shiver the last building. One more shiver, through the storm, and I'll be done.
I shivered outside.
The snow had melted.
I stared at everything for a few seconds. Well, what the mongoose was I shivering all this time for? I thought.
In a matter of hours, all the snow had gone. All that was left was an incredibly damp feeling that persisted throughout the rest of my day, prompting no complaints from anyone save for possibly my shoes.
Incidentally enough, one of the largest mental storms I've yet experienced since my return home also found some measure of relief around the same time the snow was melting back into the earth. While I'd been stuck in this psychological tempest, I'd failed to see any sign of relief. I'd worried that I would be trapped for some time in this state. I'd wondered if it was even possible to feel comfortable anymore.
And then, just like that. The snow melted. My own storm was alleviated. And I was reminded that the Lord never just leaves us to suffer. There is always an end in sight.
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