When I went over to the church a half hour ago, it was still snowing. The parking lot had not been cleared. Even if we got it cleared before 7:00, it looked like it would have to be done again in the morning. At least 3 of my regular 12 or so said they didn't want to get out. So, I punted. We called it off, just to be safe.
I went outside, and -- @#$ %&*!! -- it had stopped snowing. It's a wonderful winter evening out there, and the roads are looking a bit better. That said, the parking lot is still unscraped, and we're probably better off not trying to stretch a double into an inside-the-fence home run.
It just goes against my grain. I hate to cancel. Anything. Absolutely despise it. And the reason for that is I got tired as a kid hearing adults in school, church, Scouts, family talk big about what we could do someday, and then someday never coming. I swore that I would never be like the windbag adults I knew as a child.
And I haven't been. Over and over, I've made the magic happen, against all odds. I've built a reputation that is known far and wide: when Art says he'll be there, you can take it to the bank; if Art says we can make that trip happen, you can mark your calendar and plan with confidence. I treasure that reputation.
But some days, it's probably smarter to stay inside and stir up an extra cup of hot chocolate. In the end, it's not about me keeping up a good score; it's about the folks who would want to be here, who had either already decided against coming or who would be foolish to try to come. They don't need to be put at risk or inconvenience tonight.
So, instead of feeling affronted by the weather, I am humbly accepting it as a gift from God. He's saying, I think, "Knock off for tonight. It'll all still be there tomorrow. Meanwhile, I'll keep watch over you all."
For he giveth to his beloved ones rest.