Out Our Way: Waiting for a Chinook

Out our way, winter has hit and hit hard. I recall last year, in mid-October, the Alberta Clipper came and buried us and some folks were without power for several days. As I recall, we took “first place” in the National Weather Service poll of hardest-hit spots in the lower 48. Yea for us.

There is a famous pen and ink drawing by Charlie Russell, who used to roam his area from time to time, of a starving cow surrounded by wolves in a blizzard. If I am not mistaken, one version is called “Last of the Herd” and another called “Waiting for a Chinook.” It is the latter title I most identified with last year.

Folks who are not from Montana — and even folks in Montana who have never really lived on the Hi-Line — have asked me why I chose to live there over the years. I tell them there are four reasons: Spring, summer, autumn and chinooks. The chinooks don’t last very long, it is true, but when they come they give us a hint of spring even in February. More than one rancher has blessed God for that chinook in calving or lambing season — and even us townies love that blast of warm air that breaks Old Man Winter’s hold for a time.

Granted, the chinook winds don’t last very long, but they do remind me that even the darkest days of winter are temporary. That the cold, snow, and ice — as terrible as their grip may be — are not everlasting. There is greater power out there than the winter storms. Though the Alberta Clipper may rage across the prairies and seem unstoppable, the chinook that follows is more powerful still.

For those old enough to recall Walt Kelly’s comic strip “Pogo,” you may recall a favorite saying of his: “Any year that ends in Christmas can’t be all bad.” Like the promise of the chinook, the calendar reminds us that Christmas is coming — and for those who remember to keep Christ in Christmas, the promise of the Nativity is far more than colored lights, Santa Claus, and eggnog. Like the chinook winds, the promise of Christmas melts the ice and cold of our darkest hours and reminds us that even the icy fingers of death itself — like the Alberta Clipper — must yield to a greater power.

However, physical death is only one form of darkness that comes into our world, and just as winter storms can take different forms, so does the reality of sorrow and hardship in life. Perfectly healthy and strong men and women also face the “death of dreams” — of marriage, of long-cherished hopes and visions for the future. Here, too, we cry out to the Lord as we “wait for a chinook” And, again, it may be, if we focus on the Christ in Christmas, we find hope that a warm wind may come our way.

Recall that Christ did not come to just save us from physical death, but from spiritual death as well. He Himself said, “I have come that you may have life and that in all its fullness” (John 10:10 — my translation) Not just eternal life in the here after — but the abundant — full — life in the present.

As I read of the spiritual giants of the past — and meet with the great heroes and heroines of the faith I have met along my trail — all of them had had to deal with “the winter of their discontent,” to quote Shakespeare, and I have found, like Paul in dealing with his personal thorns of the flesh, that indeed God’s grace is sufficient for them. And I observed that though the wolves surrounded them, they never lost hope. Indeed, God’s grace was sufficient for them, and regardless of the winter storms that buffeted them, the chinook of the Holy Spirit proved greater than the icy storms.

When Christ is in Christmas, we know the chinook is at hand. We cannot know when it will come, but we know it is coming. And when it does come, we remember that even the hardest winter must give way to spring. Even in the depths of winter, spring will send a chinook wind and the reminder that February must eventually yield to May.

Blessings— Brother John

John Bruington and Doc can be contacted at [email protected]