Because my brother told me to:

It snowed this past Wednesday in Waco, Texas, an obviously uncommon occurrence and one that I felt needed documentation. As a Montana/Iowa girl recently relocated to the Lone Star state, I felt it was my duty to take pictures of it with my crappy cell phone and to build a mini snowman. I did both these things before it all melted away about three hours after the first fluffy snowflakes drifted out of the grey February sky.

As fleeting as that flurry of winter weather was, it is probably going to be one that I remember for years to come – a fact that seems odd at first. Having lived in Montana and Iowa, two states that get an alarming amount of both snow and cold, I know I’ve weathered (pun definitely intended) much worse winter storms than any I will encounter here in Texas. I’ve driven through blizzards going less than 10 mph, walked to class in well below zero temperatures – basically I like to think I’m a seasoned veteran at this winter thing; a sight more experienced than these Texans, so I said to myself.

But the truth is, I was just as thrilled and in awe of that short snowfall as the Texans I work with. I took tons of low quality cell phone pictures, caught those huge snowflakes on my tongue, and built a tiny snowman that I also took a picture of and sent to most of my relatives.

Why is it that we most appreciate a thing once we no longer have it at our disposal?

If we lived in Iowa or Montana right now, I’d probably be complaining about the cold and snow; I’d long for these greener grasses. But now that I’m here on the other side I miss the ice and snow terribly.

What a fickle nature we humans have! We think we want something and then when we have it, we’d like to return it for the old thing.

For me, this obviously goes for more than just weather. I miss my home in both Montana and Iowa, my family, my friends. I have to admit that I’ve been a bit of a pill here in Texas. I’ve focused so much on what I didn’t like about being here that I know I’ve overlooked the good things – the things I’m going to miss when we leave this place.

One I’m glad I didn’t overlook is that short-lived magical snow that was gone just in time for me to be on the roads again; I can’t say that’s happened so often in either Montana or Iowa. More than that though, I’ll remember the child-like joy that the Texans and I held in our hearts as we marveled at a sky full of snow.

I hope that’s the first of many little wonders I’ll take with me from Waco.

I’ll end with a prayer request: That I no longer look at Texas through the lens of Montana or Iowa. Please pray that instead, I’ll be aware of God’s mercies that are unique to this place and time and be grateful for them.

A big thank you and hug to my brother who told me to write about my tiny snowman.