I hate the groundhog.
It’s going to precipitate coldness. Again. So, underneath the waterproof parka and water-sealed boots to get me home from Mass dry is:
Turtleneck: Cream-colored number from White House Black Market (Can’t recall if the mall store or outlet. But buttons! On the wrist!
Cardigan: Black with neckline applique from Kohl’s (finally something bought in the last three months! But also on sale. Not sure if still there.)
Skirt: One of my favorites. Nearly four years ago went to three different H&Ms to find one in the right size. Some of their pieces hold up really well. My waistline, not so much. It’s been several months since I could zip it up. 😛
Thermals: Black modal stretch layering T from Gap Body (SO soft!) and runner’s leggings from REI. The special material has this water-resistant feel to it, and it wicks away moisture—super helpful when the temperature goes from cold outside to over-heated building to mild outside in the afternoon.
Earlier this week I found myself hoping that the near-Spring temperatures we were having in New England meant I could finally break out the gorgeous leather jacket Proverbial Mom and Dad got me for Christmas—something I’ve wanted to do for weeks. But the day of the Lord is now known as Snowday, so it stays tucked in the closet, away from the pelting flakes of ice. (Post-Mass lunch last week was insane.) Then I had the thought—what if wearing this jacket is something I’m supposed to give up, as an exercise in curbing vanity? And the snow/precipitation is something to test my patience as I wait for Spring to come for good—around Easter-tide?
This week we have the Gospel with the parable of the fig tree. Poor guy just could not get his tree to grow some figs. So he asked his gardener if he should just give up and cut the thing down. I feel like the guy with the tree; the snow will just not stop and Spring will not come—I should just buy a ticket to Florida already. I have waited long enough to wear this jacket, so this week, I give up on saving it—weather be darned!
I think a lot of people feel like giving up what they’re called to do. But we have an offer of hope, if we’re just willing to trust in someone. The gardener says to try just one more time, and he’ll help the man with his tree, and it may finally get its figs. Jesus is our gardener. If we hold on—and not give into weakness—he’ll help us out. And it may produce fruit. So the man likely will not cut down his tree, and I will not wear my jacket, and the plane will have to leave for Florida without me. God can do something with that.