As I write these words, the logs on the outside woodpile are covered with ice. As is my rear deck, my car, the trees in the yard, and the driveway which, effectively, isolates us and confines us to the house.
The American flag that I fly every day is as stiff as cardboard and even the squirrels have stayed in their nests.
Newscasters are calling the impending ice storm “catastrophic” and “historic.” The governor of Georgia and even the President of the United States have declared “states of emergency” not for what has happened but for what people say is about to happen.
School and colleges, businesses and churches, restaurants and places of entertainment, all have closed down. The interstate highways that course through Georgia and surround Atlanta are virtually deserted. The National Guard has been alerted and power crews from eight states are here to deal with the coming disaster.
It seems that the threat of ice has done what terrorists have been unable to do — shut down most of an entire state.
At the moment, where I live, it seems neither catastrophic nor historic. But the day is young. We have power, heat, hot water, an iPod, a Kindle, television, and enough food to make it until Friday when the temps rise above 50 degrees.
If the catastrophic and the historic comes within the next few hours, it will all be wiped away in 48 hours, barring something unforeseen. Such is winter in Georgia.
I hope the weather forecasters are wrong, as they so often are. If they are, people will complain that the governor over-reacted, that there was too much hype, and that too much money was spent.
Two weeks ago, during Snowpocalypse, the governor and other politicians took it on the chin for being too unprepared.
Well, whatever comes, the politicos took the safe and conservative route, which was the right thing to do. During Snowpocalypse, there were at least 1,500 car wrecks and over 2,000 cars abandoned on the highways. That seems unlikely to happen during this event.
But, because I have a Wednesday noon deadline for this article, the catastrophic and the historic has not yet occurred.
I am here by the fireplace, with a cup of coffee, waiting for the rain to resume and for the ice crystals to form.
Whatever is to happen, by the time this goes to press, it is all over and done with. Memories have been made and another story, if it is indeed catastrophic and historic, will be filed away for the telling of the tale to grandchildren.
Spring is now five weeks away. We have survived.
[David Epps is the pastor of the Cathedral of Christ the King, Sharpsburg, GA (www.ctkcec.org). He is the bishop of the Mid-South Diocese which consists of Georgia and Tennessee (www.midsouthdiocese.org) and the Associate Endorser for the Department of the Armed Forces, U. S. Military Chaplains, ICCEC. He may contacted at firstname.lastname@example.org.]