I’m pretty sure I write about this every year around this time, but… dudes, it makes me sad to think of having a Green Christmas.
OK, so technically, if today was Christmas morning, it wouldn’t actually be green. The ground is covered in a slushy, icy mess that is kinda white, but more ‘ick’ than ‘oooh!’. Y’know?
For as long as I can remember, one of my biggest December worries is whether or not we’re going to have snow for Christmas. (It’s right up there with worrying about getting sick, or someone else in my family getting sick.) I mean, we live in Canada for crying out loud. Half the world thinks we live in igloos and drive snowmobiles year-round. Is it really too much to ask for a little of the white stuff to wake up to on Christmas morning?
As I’ve gotten older (wiser?), I don’t let it bother me as much as I used to. When I was a kid, though? I’d watch the news every night in December to see what JJ was reporting for local weather. I could work myself into tears if he was chuckling over the possibility of no snow for the holiday season. Seriously.
I recall one of my elementary school teachers laughing at my laments one year, saying, “You’re ridiculous! What is the true meaning of Christmas? It’s the celebration of Jesus’ birth. Do you think there was any snow in Bethlehem the night He was born?! OF COURSE NOT!!! Baby Jesus didn’t need snow, and neither do you!!!!”
Yes. I know. It’s silly. And I get it.
But it’s still one of my biggest wishes for the Christmas season. A nice blanket of sparkling white is all I ask for. It doesn’t need to be super deep – just enough to cover the brown, ugly ground. Just enough for Santa to land his sled in…
It just doesn’t feel like Christmas without it.
Now, as I’ve mentioned many times before, I work in a place where uttering the word “s-n-o-w” can be met with snarls and growls. It’s pretty much the worst curse word ever to these people. We’re in the snow business, and it really really sucks for the guys who have to leave their cozy, comfy homes and families to plow and shovel, especially on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day.
I totally understand. But I’ve learned that they can be reasoned with. I’m swinging deals left and right around here!
Last week, my co-worker Pat (who is one of the snow removal guys) told me he would be fine if it dumped snow on us all week this week. He said he’d even be OK with working on Boxing Day, if I could guarantee him that it wouldn’t snow on Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, or the 28th (that’s his birthday). I said, “OK!! DEAL!!”
This morning, Lindsay was also making deals with me. Usually I chirp about how much I love a nice, lazy snowfall on Christmas Eve (especially around church time), but I agreed this morning that if it snowed from now until the Eve of Christmas Eve, I would call for a “snow-cease-fire” for the rest of the holiday season for her. (So that her hubby doesn’t have to work, of course.)
That’s right. I would be willing to give up my perfect snowglobe snowfall on Christmas Eve if it meant that there was already enough snow to make it a White Christmas.
Like as if I have some magical powers over the weather. Right. (Seriously, who do these guys think I am??)
Anyway. Last night I was lying in bed, saying my prayers in my head like I always do, when I found myself asking God for snow for Christmas. And then I stopped myself, and shook my head, and gave myself a little inner lecture.
Dude, that is a stupid prayer. There are so many people who are sad and hurting right now, and you’re praying for frigging snow. Don’t be so silly. Dear God, please erase that last request from the record books. Thank you, and Amen.
Before drifting off, I checked The Weather Network app on my phone (as I obsessively do this time of year), and saw the forecast for Friday was mixed precipitation, with a forecasted 1-3 cm of snow, and 15-20 mm of rain, and then no snow after that for a week. Blech. Green Christmas.
When I woke up this morning, it had changed. It’s now saying snow for Friday, 15-20 cm.
I’m still not going to hold my breath – the weatherman is a fickle, fickle fellow, and this can still all change at the drop of a hat – but maybe…
I’ll get my White Christmas.