He layeth me down on black ice

This continual snomageddon is beginning to have a body count.  Reports have been coming in about people who have died shoveling snow.  As we face the possibility of having to shovel the driveway for the third or fourth time, I’m starting to see their point.  Even the purchase of a new shovel this morning — along with a sled-disk for Tallulah — can’t generate enthusiasm for another snow adventure within me.

The Subdude slipped getting out of his car to check the mail or open a gate or some such mundane act.  The result is several fractured vertebrae.  That sounds extraordinarily painful to me.  The circumstances of this fall gave rise to the real possibility that he could be run over by his mother-in-law.  Fortunately, Cuz rescued him before word of his vulnerable state spread.  I wonder if there is anything in the Merton cannon which speaks to this particular situation.

There is likely plenty which speaks to what will have to follow.  I’m guessing there is not much that can really be done for fractured vertebrae.  Having to be still and know that the process is happening sounds fine in theory.  Practical application, however, may be more trying.  Practicing a discipline is easier when I can be actively engaged.  John Milton was right in saying that, despite the difficulty in staying put, “those also serve who stand and wait.”  At least we are almost to Lent, which is supposed to suck anyway.

2 Replies to “He layeth me down on black ice

    1. This is a task for which you and I have been training for years. The issue seems to be with those who have not lifted over 12 ounces in a significant period of time.

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