Monday’s high of seventy-three won’t be much comfort when we get down mighty close to zero tomorrow night. Come to think of it, it’s not all that much comfort right now at twenty-four, what with the ice and snow and the wind blowing thirty miles an hour. Not much comfort now, but my, what fine comfort it was Monday!
A jump of forty degrees from Sunday, a warm southern wind came sending and sounding like a chinook into Canada. Not that I have all that much Canadian experience but I talked to a guy once who’d lived there a decade or two. In his words, “Oh, you could be down around zero or below and that chinook would come blowing and you’d just feel the warmth coming. By afternoon, it would be up in the forties or even higher. It could jump up to sixty degrees in a single day.”
There’s something about such a fine, sudden change that brings cheer and hope. It sends a sense that even the deepest cold can be broken by something stronger, something better. Even in our knowing that seasons change and that spring’s good green is not so long and far away as it was a month or two ago, there is something wonderful about the sudden surge of warmth. Something strong, reassuring, comforting.
Something like the Spirit of God, sent to bring us meaning to heaven’s fine promise.