Everyone predicted snow. This morning I woke up to sleet. Sleet, though not quite as lovely, is a little easier to manage and a lot easier to walk our chihuahua in. She hates the snow.
Arthur the Aardvark came to mind this morning. Particularly the blizzard episode. I remembered Arthur’s family’s house was the only one with power, so his dad invited all their friends and neighbors to come get warm. Because I hadn’t seen it in years and because the episodes are only fifteen minutes long, I rewatched the program on YouTube.
I know it’s silly, but here’s what stood out. Dad, after failing to get bread and milk from the store, returned home through the storm and cheerfully told Arthur:
“I couldn’t buy any food, but everyone brought what they had. I’ll mix it all up and make stew!”
Eventually the Aardvarks lost power, too, so the menagerie of Arthur characters gathered by the fire in the living room, clutching steaming bowls of potluck stew. They were cold and their houses had no power, they didn’t have the exact foods they wanted, they couldn’t run their errands or type on their computers or do anything, really, that was productive. But they were together and happy, thawing out. They celebrated.
I love this. The idea that the heart of celebration is not really the meal or the décor or the ambiance, but the togetherness. Specifically, the togetherness of sharing a meal. Even if that meal is just thrown together, last minute, whatever we have. That’s kind of what life together is: celebrating whatever we have to bring and rejoicing in how the Holy Spirit can multiply it.