Friends, because of technical issues over the weekend, I wasn’t able to post the latest blog post. Here it is.

January has arrived with much ado and settled in with a cold, wet blanket of white.

This week, much of the country has been dealing with record-breaking winter storms. Writer friends of mine in Indiana and Alaska have reported worse-than-usual snowfalls and icy conditions.

Let me also add that my heart goes out to those in Los Angeles who have lost their homes to raging fires this week. I can’t imagine how devastating that would be. I am praying for them as well as everyone dealing with the dangerous winter weather.

Here in the South, most of us anticipate snow with both excitement and dread.

Where I live, snow is unusual enough that kids—and kids at heart—get excited about its coming. This week, we had plenty of notice of a potential wintry mix, so officials canceled school for Friday a few days before. And squeals of delight were heard throughout the land.

On Thursday night, familiar loud popping noises in our neighborhood meant only one thing: fireworks! Someone must have had leftovers from New Year’s Eve and put them to good use by celebrating the upcoming snow day.

The next morning, school kids everywhere woke up either raring to go out and play or relieved to roll over and go back to sleep.

After sleeping in a little myself (ahem), I stood and stared out the kitchen window as the snow came down. The sun was not yet up, but the white flakes reflectedwhatever light was available and brightened the darkness.

Before long, the dead brown grass of our front yard was clothed in snow, pristine and perfect. No tracks, human or animal, marred its surface. The view from our kitchen table is always the best in the house, so over coffee, tea, and muffins, we marveled at the beauty out the window and reminisced about other snow days.

As beautiful as snow is, it usually comes with a cost, at least here. Sleet, freezing rain, and wet snow mean ice forms on streets, driveways, and sidewalks. The roads become dangerous; the weight of the ice can bring down trees and power lines. The power often goes out, and so does the heat. People who are at risk—the very old and the very young, the homeless, anyone without heat—may struggle to keep warm.

So, although I always feel a sense of wonder at the arrival of snow, I also feel a sense of concern for what comes along with it.

The wonder of a child mixed with the worry of an adult.

Last night, our power did go out at dinnertime. We’d insisted that my mother to come and stay with us because she often loses power at her house in winter storms. So of course, we did instead.

Fortunately, the big pot of soup she and I had made was ready to eat, so by the golden glow of half a dozen LED candles, we filled our bellies with tex-Mex warmth. Afterward we camped out in front of the gas fireplace with cozy layers of clothes and blankets and flashlights close at hand. A drowsy two hours later, the power came back on (thank you, God, and Georgia Power!).

But my sister’s power went out at her house and stayed out for 11 hours. Her husband built a fire in the fireplace, which helped warm them all before they went to bed. At 6:00 this morning, it came back on. When we heard the news, we did a little dance of relief.

Today’s (Saturday’s) forecast is still very cold, but tomorrow (Sunday) should bring warmer temperatures. In the meantime, we are relaxing, reading, gazing out at the wet squishy layer of white surrounding us, and planning on another bowl of Santa Fe soup for lunch.

Stay safe and warm, everyone. My prayers are with you, wherever you live, whatever you’re dealing with today.

What do you think of snow? What’s your favorite memory of a snow day? Please share it with me in a comment below. I’d love to hear!

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