Choose, Nourish, Grow

 My first real Vermont snow storm was one that tested all my mettle.

Now, I grew up in the Midwest and have seen the snow that reaches up to the knees. I went to school in it, stood on the freezing lake highway for the school bus in a Catholic girl skirt, so I've seen it. I spent my early twenties working professionally in Chicago, the place that cuts right through you in the winter. And in my thirties, I was in graduate school in Iowa City, Iowa, and again, snow enough to cover  your car.

So, I'm not new to it.

It is a welcoming part of the seasonal change.

But, I must say, this one, being in a new state, alone, tested all my mettle.

It was the first time I was doing this without my husband or any of my children. 

It was my first time being sure my gas tank was full and my little apartment was stocked with all the stuff to make it through the weekend. Even when I had to venture out on Sunday morning for the cinnamon to go in my soup, I was appreciating the me that supported me in going out. In a different time, I most definitely would have been asking my husband to stop at the store to get this or that for the storm.

And in my driving in the freezing cold that hadn't stormed yet, I also appreciated all the ways that he did go out over all the years. I appreciated all the people we encountered in our move from the Midwest to the Northeast, who reminded us to get snow tires or whose business it was to clear the driveways.

In my early 60s and with a spinal injury that is exacerbated by age, I have learned to lean into where I am limited and honor those who can.

So, I was driving in the morning, the stores were somewhat cleaned out and I had to go to two stores before finding the cinnamon and a few other items to make it through. I'm also trying to be more like my daughter and be intentional with meal-making at home. I'm learning to cook for one in new and different ways. So I picked up a couple more items to make a pasta and stretch that chicken pack to two meals instead of one.

Then, I drove home to settle in for the rest of a cozy Sunday.

The snow started coming and I didn't see any of it, my windows weren't giving me a clear view. I was more than surprised on Monday morning when I was making my coffee and looked out the backdoor to see all those inches.

By the time my morning routine was finished and I was downstairs to get ready to drive across town to the shuttle lot, I looked and couldn't see my car. It was buried in snow!

What did I do?

I took a deep breath, appreciated the Tai Chi I've been doing at least three days a week, and got to sweeping off my car. In doing that, I made a note to myself to get a broom for my car and not just that little car sweeper because the snow was light and fluffy.

Thank you, Vermont, for that gift and not the heavy ice I'm used to from winters in Missouri, Illinois, Michigan, Kansas, and Iowa.

I was told they call this the Vermont Cardio!

A few things did surprise me by the time I finished and made it to the commuter lot where we all park in order to get to the hospital where I work.

The first is that people still try to drive fast in the snow.

The second is that the roads weren't cleared and I learned they ran out of salt.

The third is that whatever is waiting for you at the office, at the school (well, the kids had the day off) or at the hospital, will still be there. Better to arrive safely than not.

I now live in what is classified as a rural state, even though I am in the largest city. A lot of people drive up and down the mountains and we go with the flow.

The great discovery for me on that snowy Monday is that we, humanity, have the great capacity to be human to one another, to take our time, to care for each other, and to be understanding.

Meeting times can be adjusted, loads can be shared, consideration can be expressed.

When the work day was over and I took the shuttle back to my car, in a day that had been snowing the entire day, I again had to do the Vermont cardio and sweep off my car. 

Home looked so sweet - even if they hadn't shoveled the driveway yet, I was thankful to make it through the low visibility and still heavy downpour.

Once I made it fully home, did my evening routine, and had a book talk with my sorority sisters, I finally had a moment to sit and just smile at all that was.

Me, after work, as Chaplain

My gratitude was for discovering Lands End and for the Born little boots my husband bought for me when we made a pit stop in Brattleboro on the way to Burlington. I appreciated the scarf my daughter gave me in my holiday stocking, and that this little storm was just a part of the earth doing her cleansing, cleaning, and claiming of time for herself.ff

2026 invites us to nourish what will grow, to turn down the distractions, and to allow ourself to be fully alive and fully human in this moment.

For me, that meant even little things like smiling at the kids walking to the park in blinding snow so they could sled down the hill, or today, after work, taking an impromptu stop at the local chocolate shop for a mocha.

We get to discover.

That is part of the "good" that the God of the Universe intended us to have in how this world was created, regardless of what or how we believe it came to be. In the ancient text and the two creation stories, it repeated at every new thing that God proclaimed it as good.

I am determined to see and seek out the good.

Some of that good greeted me when driving from our commuter lot, I saw The Lake Champlain Chocolate Company Café and decided the night called for a little chocolate.

After perusing the offerings, I selected a couple, picked up some cocoa to come. home, and decided that I had the time to just sit for a bit, so I ordered a Hazelnut Mocha.

I settled in to a little table and just was present with all that was happening around me. The chocolate was exquisite and in some ways, demanded that we pause. I think that is something I've also discovered about Vermont, the intentionality of presence and enjoying all the little moments.

Sitting across from me was a table of a couple ladies around my age. They were getting up to leave and one turned around and said, "Hello." I said, "Hello." The other said, "are you a Chaplain?" I responded, "Yes." She asked me if I knew "so and so." I responded in the affirmative, that we just met as I've been here a week, and that we had similar names. She smiled and welcomed me to the state and said I would like it here.

After our little visit, I was finishing up my drink and sitting at the café barstools was a mom and her two kids. The little one is about the same age as my granddaughter. He smiled at me and I smiled back.

Both of these little moments reminded me of what we so often miss by being tethered to the screens -  the human interaction, the human voice, the human touch, the ways that we were never meant to be in this world alone. That we need each other and in a lot of ways, the world has been crying out for that return.

Maybe that is the feeling the Gen Z gets in thrifting or discovering analog phones. I've heard a lot about the 2026 trend of the analog life, real crafts, gathering with real people reading real books, just being present.

None of us are unaware of what else is happening in the country, the world, and the state of things since 2016, actually.

I'm well aware of the things that have been transpiring in the world. Even though I no longer watch my former favorite news channel, I still get the highlights of what is going on. I just made a choice to not let it consume the justice-side of me so much that my spirit was wounding.

I drove past the protests that were happening here on Friday and tooted my horn in support.

I have occasionally made a remark or comment and join in affirmation with my Bishop about the rights of all humanity to exist in the beauty and fullness of their being.

There is so much I want for the future, for my children to have, for my grandchildren to have. I've made some intentional work and moves toward what I hope for them. They were the inspiration for the many organizing events, activist events, and community engagement events I participated in for decades.

But something shifted in me that made me realize how much was taken for granted and how much was missed.

Society is in the the middle of her roundedness.

And some are waking up that had the privilege of four hundred years of sleeping through and not noticing the injustices.

And some are resting and just tired from sounding alarms.

And some are still hopeful for change to come in our lifetimes.

And some are waiting.

And we are all watching.

I think that was also a bit of what this storm, and from the news report I also received, another one coming, but it was something that we all shared.

A moment that stopped all our moments, all our regularly scheduled lives, and had us pause in the uncertainty.

Who knows what it will bring or what it will do.

What I do know is that in the middle of it, if we allow it to, we can discover some things amazing about life, living, and loving.

The poet, Danielle Doby wrote in her book, Am Her Tribe, "I choose to nourish what is willing to grow. 

That is the beauty of being human.

We do get to pivot.

We do get to think.

We do get to ponder.

We do get to wonder.

And in so doing, we do get to appreciate, relish, and be grateful for this moment that is, snow and all.

©2026. All Rights Reserved. Discovering love, light, and living in snowy Vermont where local businesses add such beauty to this Green Mountain State. If ever here, have a chocolate from Lake Champlain.