Weather advice has sapped courage

I am a wimp. There, I’ve said it. All my courage is gone. It had been sapped by a lifetime of listening to my mother telling me to be careful, to stay home if it is bad outside. “Bad” means icy, snowy, rainy, cold, or merely cloudy. “Bad” also applies if the weather is beautiful but the weatherman has predicted any form of precipitation any time in the next month in any area of the globe.
I am writing this on the last Sunday in February. Normally, I would have spent yesterday baking and shopping for birthday presents. Normally, I would be preparing to leave to go to my mom’s to celebrate the February birthdays. Normally, I wouldn’t pay any attention to my mother’s dire warnings.
For some reason, this year I have begun to listen to her. I did venture out yesterday, but I went only far enough to go to the meat market a block away. Later, after the snowplows had worked their magic, I drove less than a mile to get some milk. Other than that, I stayed safely at home.
I didn’t used to be like this. I have never let my mother’s predictions of disaster affect my plans. I have driven in snow, ice and pouring rain. I have panicked when my car lost traction on slick roads, but always managed to get to where I was going without injury.
Somehow, things have changed. Maybe she has worn me down. Every time I talk to her I am bombarded with stories of how terrible the world has gotten. All the negativity has overwhelmed my defenses and I am in danger of believing that the world is truly as dangerous as she says.
The news reports of atrocities committed across the globe reinforce this idea. I find it hard to believe that any god would condone the killing and kidnapping and cruelty done in his name. Yet, the atrocities continue as they have since the beginning of civilization.
I vow to shake this feeling. The weather is cold. News reports are grim. My mom sinks deeper and deeper into her belief that everything is going to Hades in a handbasket. She does her best to convince me she is right.
I call my daughter, Beth, in an effort to shake the apprehension. I find out that she and her daughter were riding horses the other day. Granddaughter Emma started to get off her horse when it spooked. She was bucked off. When Beth hopped off her own horse to help Emma, the horse accidentally kicked my daughter. Not exactly cheering news.
A trip to the hospital and X-rays for both revealed no broken bones. Emma is fine. Beth is very sore and bruised but will heal in time. Emma’s horse is being returned to its previous owner. The other one is listed on Craigslist.
The conversation turns to Jacob, the kindergartener. He learned about a famous painting the other day at school. It is called the Mona Lisa. Now he has to create a self-portrait. Beth thinks it will look more like a Picasso than a Leonardo da Vinci. I smile and agree with her. We are awaiting the results of his artistic efforts.
This helps. I am cheered. My desire to travel long distances is still absent. I am still apprehensive about driving snow dusted roads sprinkled with unexpected patches of ice. I am still worried that my mom is right about the state of the world. Fear still lives in my heart but it is not as overwhelming as it was.
Jacob and his entire family may not have restored my absent courage but this wimp is planning a trip to celebrate the February birthdays, but not today. Today I have shopping to do.