It's an evening close to December 25 for Ives and Annie. They have just hosted their annual tree decorating party. Their kids are in bed; Christmas is just around the corner; and their lives seem perfect. In less than 24 hours, their son will be dead, and they will take on new roles: grieving parents.
There is snow predicted tonight for the Upper Peninsula. Several inches, with 45 mile per hour winds. It has been snowing, off and on, all day. As I was walking to my university office this evening, the winds were a little brutal. By the time I head home after class, the storm will, undoubtedly, be in full swing. I hate driving in this kind of bad weather. Especially after sunset. It's like driving in a tunnel of white and black.
I have had a few close calls over the years. Anybody who lives in the U. P. of Michigan has a story or two about swerving around cars, spinning into a ditch, narrowly escaping some kind of vehicular catastrophe. I have been extremely lucky. But I know my luck could run out tonight or tomorrow or the next day. Ives and Annie learn this difficult lesson. One day, their son is planning to enter the priesthood. The next, he's lying on the sidewalk underneath a bloody sheet.
The snow has started now. It's coming down sideways. Big, fat, heavy flakes. I have three hours of teaching ahead of me. Then, a drive. A long, harried drive. It's not going to be fun. My daughter will be with me. Maybe the storm will let up for an hour or so. Long enough for us to get home without incident. Maybe. Probably not.
I know my life can change in an instant. Stormy weather or clear weather. Christmas Day or Independence Day. Winter or Fall. Every moment of happiness is a blessing. Grace.
Saint Marty's hoping for grace on his drive home tonight.
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| Preach, Leo! |
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