Mild winters make me nervous.
If my studies of the Bible are correct, dry conditions during otherwise seasons of precipitation means only one thing: sin.
Really, there are too many biblical examples to name here. If we were to calculate all those stories and add to that the Utah pioneer tales of drought and flood, there would be clear evidence that only sinners experience what we are seeing today. This crackling, dehydrated, parched, "Greatest No Show on Earth" winter is a sign that someone needs to repent around here.
I say someone, because it ain't me. I've been doing my part to be a good soul. Not even two months ago I had a baby. Having a baby makes a woman clean of wrongdoing for at least a year. (This statement I surely learned somewhere in all that Bible study I did as a youth.)
It certainly isn't David Archuleta. He's mission-bound and the Mormon Tabernacle Choir can certainly vouch for him. Besides, isn't he handsome in a tux and microphone?
Could it be Furniture Warehouse? Could our wetless winter coincide with their stores going out of business? Heaven knows they need to seek forgiveness for those weird commercials they've subjected us to all these years.
Who could it be? Who is keeping Utah from it's yearly moisture? Dale Schanze? The Jazz? My neighbor who had a gigantic New Year's Eve party and lit illegal fireworks in the backyard that shook my house and repeatedly woke up my small sleeping children and nearly burned down my roof and practically ruined my otherwise romantic evening I had planned?
I might as well put this out there while I'm thinking it: Jake Heaps?
OK, just kidding about Jake Heaps. While I'm at it, though, I wish him well in Kansas. However, if Kansas doesn't have a winter next year, I will start to wonder ...
Is it possible we're all being punished for our Jimmer Fredette worship? (Is it still considered idolatry if the object of your worship is half immortal?)
Well, I am tired of guessing here. Besides, the Bible tells me it's not a good idea to judge my neighbor. Whoever the heavens are waiting on I hope they'll hurry up. I miss the white flaky stuff flurrying around and sticking until March.
In the meantime, I am going to go fly a kite.
C. Jane Kendrick writes for cjanerun.com, is on Facebook as C.Jane Kendrick and tweets as CJaneKendrick. She lives in Provo with her husband and two children.
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