On the morning of Tuesday, February 11, 2025, I went for a run.
I had to go because the weather forecasters had Richmond whipped into another winter storm frenzy. I wanted to get out before all that frozen precipitation covered the roads.
That winter storm hysteria came courtesy of local weather forecasters. I wonder if the meteorology degree curriculum has a required class: How to create craziness in snow starved communities with a winter storm forecast. If they do, it works in Richmond.
When I left the house, the temperature was 33 degrees. A northeast wind at 6 mph. created a wind chill of 27 degrees.
I was layered up for the run under a gray winter sky. Lately, I’ve been running the 5K course through our neighborhood. Years ago, our son, Andrew, created the route for a 5K sponsored by our church.
This morning, I’m running the course, but out of its usual sequence.
Maybe its my odd personality, but I enjoy a run on a cold, gray winter morning. I think it has to do with the starkness of the landscape.
I can really see how stately the trees are sculpted.Their bare branches and limbs stretch in all directions.
In some landscaped beds, the early green of anxious daffodils are popping up.
On the south retaining wall for the playground at our church, the bright yellow blooms of winter jasmine are showcased.
Even though not a single flake of snow has fallen, local school systems surrendered to the dire predictions and are closed for the day.
Out on the course, I come across people getting one last walk in with their dogs before this monster of a tempest arrives.
The storm is predicted to start as a heavy wet snow. Then conditions change in the upper levels of the atmosphere to create a switchover to sleet followed by a change to the super slick and dreaded freezing rain.
We have no affection for freezing rain in our tree laden neighborhood. That ice coating makes life miserable for trees, their limbs, and the utility lines under them.
Dominion Energy recently completed a massive project in the neighborhood by burying the power lines underground.
Because of its splendid mature trees, this neighborhood was one of the leaders in Virginia for losing power during inclement weather. While not a perfect solution to power outages, so far this winter we’ve been lucky.
I felt like an out of sync slug when I started my run. Eventually, this old sack of bones adjusted, and I felt better with each step.
When my feet arrived at the edge of our driveway, I stopped the timer on my watch. It read 35:30. Clearly, at my age, I’m no speed demon, but I truly cherish being able to go for a run.
I don’t remember the exact moment, but after breakfast the snowflakes started to fall. It was if someone had taken an ice pick and poked a hole in those full gray clouds. The flakes fell as if they had not a care in the world.
By midday, the snow retreated and sleet was pinging off hard surfaces. At one point in the afternoon, the snow returned, but to my disappointment the final switch over to freezing rain took place.
Between dinner and bedtime, we kept peeking out the windows. Our Thunder Cloud Plum near the end of our driveway was making me nervous. The ice coating its limbs kept weighing them down. I hoped that the tree could withstand the extra weight and not snap during the night.
As I headed upstairs, one of the county’s snowplows came down our street. It pushed the mushy slush with no resistance.
I slept, but not through the night. At 3:30, I was awake. I tried to go back to sleep, but that didn’t work.
After 4, I gave up, and headed down to the kitchen. The freezing rain was lighter now, but the weight on the limbs kept increasing. As the sky began to lighten up in the east, I could see the icy glaze on cars, shrubs, and trees.
A little after 8, I was outside. I stepped carefully. I wanted to start our cars.
With the cars warming, I gathered my snow shovel and an old square point shovel. That aged shovel was perfect for breaking up the layer of ice on the driveway.
Soon the cars had warned enough that I could remove the thick layer of ice off the windows.
With our driveway and sidewalk cleared, I made the short walk across the street. For a few minutes, I cleared the driveway and sidewalk for our still spry, but aging neighbor.
I walked back to our house. Updated the commander supreme, grabbed my backpack, keys, and headed toward Trinity.
I turned around the car and drove down Stuart Hall Road. As I approached the intersection with Baldwin Road, I stopped quickly. An iced coated pine tree had fallen across the road.
I took out my phone and called the non-emergency number for the police department. An honest dispatcher answered. She stated they had calls all over the county for fallen limbs and trees blocking roadways.
She took the information, and as I was about to hangup, the fire truck for Station 8 pulled up on Baldwin. They were on the way back to their Patterson Avenue station from another storm related call— a downed power line.
Their truck is equipped with a small chainsaw. The firemen used this to get the pine cut into moveable sections and out of the roadway.
I told the firemen that I worked at Trinity. They reported to me that the section of Forest Avenue in front of the church was closed due to that downed power line.
Sure enough, when I parked at Trinity, police cars with their blue lights flashing had the street blocked.
For the next few minutes, I checked the grounds of the church. We had quite a few trees with snapped limbs. The trees were now scarred where the departing limbs broke away. Some trees looked like the wrong move would make a branch crack and fall at any moment.
Once I was organized, I spent the remainder of my day outside. I was appreciative of our senior pastor, Brian Siegle, who earlier in the day had cleared a couple of key entry points.
Occasionally, in the distance, I could hear the unmistakable pop of a cracking limb accompanied by the violent swoosh of that limb crashing to the ground.
Numerous neighbors used our parking lot to move their vehicles out of harm’s way.
One neighbor from Francisco Road moved both of his cars to the lot. He reported that a big limb had crashed through the roof of his house. Luckily, no one was injured. But, this gentleman reported that he had had it up to here with the storm as he pointed to his neckline.
Not long after that encounter, I was working on the Stuart Hall Road side of the church. I heard the pop of a cracking pine limb. I looked up to see its impact as it crashed harmlessly on the hard road surface. Luckily, no humans or cars were in its path.
Bob one of the neighbors on Stuart Hall came over with his shovel and helped me clear the big broken limb and its debris. I told Bob I owed him a beer for his kind heart. He laughed, stating these trees are part of the neighborhood, and walked back to his home.
By 3, the sidewalks and steps around the church were in good shape. Thanks to Slurry Pavers so were the parking lots.
The only troublesome spot was where the sidewalks to the playground and church office merged. All afternoon, melting ice pellets from a large pine tree had been building up on the sidewalks.
It seemed walking through this area was like trying to walk through an ice maker. I took a few minutes and shoveled the ice piles off the sidewalks.
Back in my office, I put together a brief email to our staff letting them know about the conditions of our grounds. That included what to expect the next morning. Next, I packed up and headed home.
Perhaps, you have been wondering why in the world has Bill been droning on and on about this winter storm.
The answer can be found in this scripture—Psalm 139 verse 23: “Search me, God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts.”
If God were to search my heart and test me with questions, he would know that my anxious thoughts push beyond a winter storm. God would know that since January 20, 2025, I have been uneasy about our country.
Truth be told, I become more apprehensive everyday. I’m no different than an ice coated pine tree in this most recent winter storm. My disgust for the decisions being made in Washington make me want to snap.
My unease is nothing compared to the people who are feeling the full impact of these reckless decisions.
No question, our country for many, many years has been fraught with internal and external challenges. No one can deny that whether a Democrat or Republican had been elected as our President, these unresolved challenges were bare for all to see.
Did we need to address these challenges? Yes.
Should we deal with these challenges in the manner in which our current administration is making illogical, heartless human decisions? No.
Is this the way America is supposed to be run with nonstop executive orders and non-qualified people making these decisions? No.
As these decision continue to go unchecked, we will find more Americans whose lives are going to be devastatingly snapped like a ice stressed pine tree? Yes.
The individuals making these decisions might have a beating heart, but their hearts have no humility, no dignity, nor compassion for anyone who is impacted by their disrespectful decisions.
When America was founded with all of its imperfections, our hearts spoke. Our hearts prevailed against the British rule.
Where are our hearts now?
Their silence is unacceptable.
That next snap you hear will not be from a stressed, ice coated pine tree limb.
No that stressful snap will come from a dedicated American public servant whose life and career have been destroyed.
Destroyed by a heartless President and his inhuman peeps who only care about their selfish lives and their insatiable appetite for abusing power.
God, you now know my heart.
I’m not the only anxious heart in America.
Now God, here is the tough question for you.
God, where are you in this United States of America that is no longer “one nation under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all”?
God, I bared my heart, will you bare yours?
I remember these words from the movie, The Green Book: “It takes courage to change people’s hearts.”
Your son had a courageous heart.
God, help our hearts to find that courage.
might be baloney 