The first big snow of every winter always catches me off guard.  Or I should say I let it catch me off guard.
  I usually don't want to hear about it, I stop listening to the radio or watching the weather forecast.   I would just prefer to not know and pretend like its not going to happen.  Sometimes I even try to make plans on that day to show the storm that I don't really think it is going to be as bad as they say.

But it still comes.
And it usually is that bad.

On Saturday we had our first big snow.  My day started off with helping a neighbor push his car out of the alley for an hour.
Clue number one.

That should have told me it was going to be bad.  However, I continued to make plans, trusting it was going to stop soon.
It didn't.

When my cousin and her family came home and told horror stories of the road, I refused to listen.
"It's really bad out there."
"I don't think you'll be going anywhere today."
Sure...
Clue number two.

We even tried to look for the shovel, which we later learned had fallen over and become buried in the snow.  (Trying to dig out your shovel so that you can shovel out your car, ironic).

I still didn't want to believe in the power of the storm.
I continued to go about my day, avoiding windows, getting things done for the night, and ignoring all the talk about the snow.

At about noon I was forced to go outside to get something from my car.
From my car buried up to the roof in snow.
Clue number three.

Standing outside staring at my car I began to scan the streets. Seeing five cars stuck, no distinction between road and sidewalk and the absence of the number 5 bus on the corner that is rarely late, I started to let the storm affected me. I realized that it might actually be bad.

Entering the house my thoughts began to change, from there is no way this is actually going to happen to this is never going to stop.

I watched the window closely, believing that my car was going to be buried, believing I was never going to get to leave my house until spring, and believing it was never going to stop snowing.
But of course it did.

After the snow stopped falling and the wind stopped blowing there was a certain, uninhibited calm about it all.  I went outside to help shovel and the previous vacant streets were filled with people.
There was a family pulling their children around in a sled.  There was a couple walking down the middle of the street with hot chocolate. There were neighbors coming together to help shovel out cars, sidewalks, and driveways.

I began to think things might be normal again.

But as I stood in the middle of the street under the light of the street lamp I didn't want it to go back to normal.  I wanted everything to stay shut down. I wanted to live in the quiet. I wanted to live in the calm for a little while longer.

The day I fought so hard against. The day I didn't believe it.  The day that came anyways.
I wanted to stay.  I wanted it to stay a snow day.

I react to change in a similar way I reacted to the snow that day.  I want it to be my own plans, my own decisions, my own way, no surprises.
But thankfully God plans it.  They aren't my plans, they aren't my decisions, it's not my way, and there are surprises.
I can't change His plans, even when I pretend they aren't going to happen, it is not going to affect me or don't except the truth.
They still happen.
And I always end up realizing He is good.
I want to stay in His presence.  I want to be in awe of His power.  I want to accept His plans.
Because His plans are vastly better than mine could ever be.

Sometimes God knows that I just need a snow day to stop, look, and realize that I'm not the one in control, He is, and there is no better way.