Day 315: Lookin' Out My Front Door

Yep, it sure snowed a lot last night. Definitely a lot of snow.

That white stuff that you see? It's snow.

Day 60: "The Wintry Day, Descending to Its Close"

In a change of pace from the way this winter has gone, we're getting a pretty good snowstorm out there tonight. I just took a gander outside, and it looks something like this:


It's the kind of sight that reminds me of one of my favorite and also one of the most underrated hymns, "The Wintry Day, Descending to Its Close." Written a long time ago by Elder Orson F. Whitney of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, the first verse recounts his experience looking out his window at the end of a winter's day and his reflections on the snow. Like the Atonement, he says, the snow is pure and white, and it covers everything.

Happy Leap Day, folks.

I "Snow" What You Mean

I just took a few minutes to gaze outside the window toward the Great Salt Lake, and, out of the blue, one of my favorite hymns came to mind:

The wintry day, descending to its close,
Invites all wearied nature to repose,
And shades of night are falling dense and fast
Like sable curtains closing o'er the past.
Pale through the gloom the newly fallen snow
Wraps in a shroud the silent earth below
As though 'twere mercy's hand had spread the pall,
A symbol of forgiveness unto all.

"The Wintry Day, Descending to Its Close," written by Elder Orson F. Whitney of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, is not one of those hymns you will often hear sung in church at really any point in the year. Very few people (who I know of) have ever heard or sung it. But it remains one of my favorites.

There is a lot of symbolism in the song. The most important, I believe, is the comparison of newly fallen snow to the Atonement. After all, white is a symbol of purity, and snow, like the Atonement, seems to cover everyone and everything when you look out at it.

Despite all of the trouble caused by falling snow - after all, who really enjoys driving through that slushy, slippery stuff? - there are moments when snow is a thing of beauty.

Slip Slidin' Away

I love the snow. Sledding or making a snowman are among my favorite things to do in winter. I do not, however, enjoy shoveling snow nor driving when snow piles up on the road. At these times, I am not so much a fan of the snow.

Yesterday, Biz and I faced a dilemma. We normally carpool down to Provo once a month to perform at Comedy Sportz, and we were scheduled for both of last night's shows. But it was snowing pretty much all day and snowing quite a bit. Some friends I saw in the afternoon told me horror stories about their experiences driving on I-15 earlier in the day. I think it was even snowing in space.

For much of the day, it wasn't looking like we might get down to Provo at all. We considered calling the top brass and asking if they could find someone else to fill our spots. But, in the afternoon, the weather cleared up. We decided we would go after all. Just in case the weather got bad again, Jeff offered to drive us in Bunny (Biz and Jeff's new car), which we agreed would do better in the snow than my box of bolts.

For the trip down to Provo, the coast was totally clear, and we made great time. We had a fun evening with our Comedy Sportz colleagues, taking part in two enjoyable Improv shows. We were at the club until a little after midnight, after which we packed things up and headed back.

For most of the trip home, the roads were once again clear. As we came into the middle of the Salt Lake valley, however, we drove into a new storm. Jeff slowed down to about 50 MPH, as circumstances seemed to permit, but, before we knew it, we were spinning like the Tilt-a-Whirl at Lagoon. (That's really the only thing I can compare it to.)

In what felt like an hour later, but was in actuality only about 10 or 15 seconds, we came to a stop - which, thankfully, was not due to our having collided with the concrete divider, which I feared may happen twice - in the middle of the freeway after two consecutive 360-degree turns.

In the middle of this rather scary moment, I remember uttering a quick prayer for our safety. This was one of those times that an answer was given right away. Jeff did something very important in that moment that is crucial when you're behind the wheel of a car: He didn't panic. It was also a good thing that this took place at about 1:00 a.m. on a somewhat empty road. About any other time, and we probably would have collided with one or more cars.

Every so often, something happens that reminds you that you're being looked out for.