Snow in Houston (southeast Texas) is not an unprecedented event, but it’s an exceptional one. Even a flurry can shut the city down for fear of icy roads and sidewalks.

And if flurries are exceptional, a three-inch snowfall is a once-in-a-lifetime event. But that’s what we woke up to on Tuesday, January 21, 2025. (Some parts of the county had up to five inches.)

Window view of snow-covered garden next to a brick house wall. Tall greenery poking up through the snow. A tall tree and green toolshed are visible in the background.
View from our kitchen window after the snow.
Wooden table in the foreground with coffee pot on the right. Window behind and over the table, showing background view of a tree trunk surrounded by snow, and shadows of tree branches on the snow, pointing forward toward the window.
View from our dining room window after the snow.

Somehow, our daily newspaper made it to the house that morning. That was the only “normalcy” that involved any coming or going. It was the same throughout the city: every store and restaurant closed; students and employees working remotely if at all; and where anyone ventured outdoors, it was mostly to play in the snow.

That night the TV news featured snow scenes. Mostly of people (plus several dogs and a horse) romping and sliding and having tons of fun. But also of some motor vehicles that were taken out on icy roads–and wound up off the roads in a mess.

It evokes thoughts of places where snow days are far more common–and where the mention of “snow” triggers a study in contrasts. On one side stand the children, beaming with delight at the day off and the endless white playground before them. On the other side: adults grumbling over the mess, the extra work involved, and the struggle to salvage some “business as usual” in a climate where snow shovels and snow chains do their best to keep the world running in winter. The difference between a welcome surprise and an unwelcome disruption is the level of obligation you feel toward routine “duties”–and, for most of us, sliding toward the “unwelcome” end is the price of growing up.

But who says we have to stay “grown up” 24/7? “Anyone who doesn’t receive the Kingdom of God like a child will never enter it” (Mark 10:15, New Living Translation of the Bible). A “disruption” can be a taste of heaven on earth if we do what the kids do: cheer at the unexpected break, throw ourselves wholeheartedly into enjoying it, and take for granted that the world will keep turning without our trying to plan and control everything.

Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!

Lawn, driveway, and white car covered in snow. Tree to back right. Snow-covered street, and houses with snow-covered roofs, in background.
View from our front window after the snow.
Snow Day
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Katherine Swarts

Lifelong reader, writer, and dreamer, living in Houston, TX. Have published articles in many periodicals, including BIRD WATCHER'S DIGEST and HIGHLIGHTS FOR CHILDREN. Also, a serious cat and coffee lover (and pretty fond of the outdoors, too).

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