Photo by Maria Orlova on Pexels.com
" data-medium-file="https://i0.wp.com/stephanieverni.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/12/pexels-photo-4969828.jpeg?fit=300%2C200&ssl=1" data-large-file="https://i0.wp.com/stephanieverni.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/12/pexels-photo-4969828.jpeg?fit=960%2C639&ssl=1" decoding="async" width="960" height="640" src="https://i0.wp.com/stephanieverni.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/12/pexels-photo-4969828.jpeg?resize=960%2C640&ssl=1" alt="rural snowy village during severe blizzard" class="wp-image-22722" srcset="https://i0.wp.com/stephanieverni.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/12/pexels-photo-4969828.jpeg?w=1880&ssl=1 1880w, https://i0.wp.com/stephanieverni.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/12/pexels-photo-4969828.jpeg?resize=300%2C200&ssl=1 300w, https://i0.wp.com/stephanieverni.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/12/pexels-photo-4969828.jpeg?resize=1024%2C682&ssl=1 1024w, https://i0.wp.com/stephanieverni.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/12/pexels-photo-4969828.jpeg?resize=190%2C127&ssl=1 190w, https://i0.wp.com/stephanieverni.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/12/pexels-photo-4969828.jpeg?resize=768%2C512&ssl=1 768w, https://i0.wp.com/stephanieverni.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/12/pexels-photo-4969828.jpeg?resize=1536%2C1024&ssl=1 1536w, https://i0.wp.com/stephanieverni.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/12/pexels-photo-4969828.jpeg?resize=1200%2C800&ssl=1 1200w, https://i0.wp.com/stephanieverni.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/12/pexels-photo-4969828.jpeg?resize=1140%2C760&ssl=1 1140w, https://i0.wp.com/stephanieverni.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/12/pexels-photo-4969828.jpeg?resize=600%2C400&ssl=1 600w" sizes="(max-width: 960px) 100vw, 960px" data-recalc-dims="1" />Photo by Maria Orlova on Pexels.comI hate to end 2022 on a sort of melancholy note, but I can’t help myself. Rarely, if ever, do I get preachy on my blog. Typically, I’m here to share news, light, personal stories, fictional writing, poetry, and my own uplifting insights. What will start on today’s post as a downer, I hope will turn into something positive as we move forward into 2023.
I’m not sure if you’re familiar with the news story about a hero in Western New York named Jay Withey who saved 24 people during the blizzard on Christmas Eve. It’s a heartwarming story—one that makes you proud of our capacity to do good and affirms a belief in the kindness of strangers. While saving people from the deadly blizzard, Withey ended up breaking into a school (breaking a window) as a means of finding shelter for those who had been stranded in their cars. When the blizzard subsided, he left a note for the school apologizing for breaking the window. The police later came to his home to commend him for his bravery. Happy stuff.
But the sad state of affairs to which I refer in the title of this post is the fact that, on Christmas Eve, with the storm raging and Withey trying to rescue those who were stranded, when he knocked on the doors of local people’s homes in the area asking if they could take refuge inside their homes, Withey and those he rescued were turned away. One after another.
One doesn’t have to look too far to feel a sense of despair about those circumstances. My husband and I both looked at each other when we heard the story and said, “Can you imagine not opening your door and welcoming into your home people in need like that?”
I suppose in this day and age of heightened skepticism and an untrusting nature of others, I shouldn’t be surprised. But I am. It was a matter of life and death. Of safety and saving people vs. having them freeze to death (as many did) in their cars. There was a frightening blizzard brewing. I am at a loss to understand this.
It also reminds me of another story, one in which a certain couple with a baby about to be born was told there was “no room at the inn.”
I hope this story comes as a lesson to us all as we are about to ring in 2023: perhaps consider opening your doors and your hearts to people in times of need, especially as ferocious, danger looms.
That is all, people.
That is all.
