Wheel of the Year - As the Wheel Turns

"As the Wheel Turns" is a topical journal entry reflecting this season of the year. All of these writings are the original work of Sally McCoy, founder and owner of Capluna. You are welcome to share this material with credit to the author. "As the Wheel Turns" is intended to be updated weekly, on Tuesdays.

Feb. 7, 2006

A heavy dump of well over a foot of snow has brought winter in with a clarity that was missing all throughout January.  It almost kept me from the funeral of my childhood best friend's mom.  Mrs. Smith was laid to rest yesterday, and I was desperate to attend the proceedings.  Shannon's mom had made a huge difference in my life - she was very different from my own beautiful mom.  My birth mother taught me to be open minded and to look at the big picture.  My mom was educated, poly-lingual, well-traveled, a champion of the civil rights movement.  Mrs. Smith had slightly different values.  She was totally into the nobility of being a wife, a home-maker and a mom.  Mrs. Smith was a disciplinarian; my mom let things slide most of the time.  Mrs. Smith was a spit-fired, high tempered gal; my mom was a genteel and vulnerable lady.  What a fine balance they provided for my upbringing!  Mrs. Smith gave me the grit that was needed to stand up and present the content of philosophy that came more from my genetic pool.  Knowledge was prized at the hearth in which I grew up.  Relationship was promoted at my best friend's house.  Both are needed for effectiveness in communication.  Between the two of them, Mrs. Smith and my mom got my act together.  I am grateful.

This time of year includes the same type of contrast.  The holing up in a cozy nest for hibernation gives way to the rugged harshness of being outside without enough layers for protection.  Between the two of them the winter passes by, evolving its participanats through a mixture of comfort with courage, through a blend of slow-poke cabin fever punctuated by a desperate striving for survival.  Each extreme, intermittently taking turns month after month throughout winter's length, gets us all through to the other side, to the rebirth of spring.  

I was snowed in, down a country path.  There was no sympathy for my need to get downstate to the funeral home in question.  And then, all of a sudden, the county snowplow came bustling through.  I was allowed to go from the warm enclave of the fireside into the harshness of the snow-blown day.  I got my way.  I got to say goodbye to my friend's mother and be among her loved ones.

All of a sudden, the one extreme gave way to the other extreme.  I got my way.