Snow and Daffodils

I’m approaching the end of my seventh year living in the East Anglia region of the UK, and we just had our second real snow of that period, Easter morning, 2008. I’m not a big fan of snow. Ok, I don’t mind snow; I just don’t like the cold it seems to be regularly associated with. That may seem strange since my permanent home is in the northern part of the lower peninsula of Michigan, but I think that is one of the things that keeps me working late in life. If I retire I have to go back to Michigan and shovel snow… and they have had lots more days of lots more snow than here in East Anglia.
I love the Daffodils pushing up through the snow. There is probably a life lesson in there, but the trouble with life lessons is figuring out what they mean. Next week the snow will most likely be distant memory, and the daffodils will still be standing tall. The daffodils are more constant, and so I notice the snow. The temporary discomfort draws my attention, but it makes me appreciate the daffodils. Would I have noticed them this morning if the snow had not fallen? Maybe life’s little tribulations are just there to make us see the blessings that are more constant. They are building an elevator in my school next to my room, and for some reason it could NOT be done in the summer. Some days the ear-splitting drilling and hammering noise is almost continuous, and on occasion I have had to retreat to the cafeteria for a make-shift class. Through all this, I am inspired by the way my young charges continue to stay on task. We laugh at the crazy spectacle of trying to learn calculus and analysis in the cacophony, but through it all, my little daffodils stick their heads above the snow and persevere.