I think somebody forgot to give God his new calendar.
The Committee in Charge of Calendar Selection -- the task force that was supposed to
study the newest edition of the Calendar of Cute and Cuddly Kittens Posed So Adorably
by Feeding Them Drugs and similar calendars depicting God's creations, and then
choose between these and the calendars filled with photos of Famous Stained Glass
Windows in Unheard-of Foreign Countries -- must have spent all their time sleeping,
because obviously they forgot to give God his calendar and now God is just guessing about
what time of year it is.
I came to this conclusion one fine spring morning when it snowed on my daffodils in the
middle of New Jersey. This particular day happened to be The Day Before Easter.
Clearly somebody made a mistake.
But then again, there is always the possibility that God knew exactly what day it was
and He was just looking for some fun. He probably gets bored up in heaven waiting for us
to get around to realizing that we need His help with whatever it is we're doing here on
Earth.
God may have made it snow for pure entertainment, to watch our faces as we sleepily
opened our bedroom curtains in the morning and suddenly gasped at the discovery that white
flakes were falling all over our anticipation of warmer weather.
He's done it before -- often, come to think of it.
A couple of years ago it snowed on the actual first day of spring -- just as we
prepared to celebrate the end of winter. Hah, hah. That was a funny thing to do, God. Ever
since then, I've been keeping a wary eye on spring's Grand Opening Day, wondering if God's
going to repeat his joke. This year, two days before He threw that cold, wet blanket on my
daffodils, I thought we were safely into spring because the wind blew in a 75-degree
get-a-head-start-on-your-summer-tan day.
And then it snowed. After winter had closed down for the season. But I should
be used to this kind of humor. My daughter, Tammy, was born nine days late. That's a
novena of impatience and torture, as any female person knows who's carried a squirming,
heavy basketball in her abdomen for several years.
I had been sure Tammy would arrive early, because for weeks I'd been feeling mild
contractions of the muscles that were supposed to keep my abdomen from sagging to my
knees. Hah, hah again.
On the day it snowed, the Easter Vigil readings included one of God's favorite punch
lines: "For my thoughts are not your thoughts and your ways are not my ways."
How many times have I prayed for God's help and He didn't provide it when or how I thought
he should?
That's God's modus operandi. It's one way He drives home the point that it's
not we who solve the problems, but He. He wants us to be sure to realize that each time
good things happen to us, it's because He has worked yet another miracle.
However, I'd like to have the opportunity to credit God with a miracle without having
to wait until my faith is tested and I finally hear His punch line. But that's why it
snowed in spring -- to remind me Who's in charge.
