We got sixteen inches of the white stuff while we were at the Water Street Inn in Kittery, Maine. A father and son shoveled the inn’s walkways and cleared the snow behind the two cars in the guest parking spaces.

The next morning, my husband and I grabbed a shovel and scraper to help free the car for the other guest at the inn – a lovely woman from North Carolina. Clearing away the snow was the only reason we got to meet her, and the only reason we met the father and son the day before.

When we got home later in the day, a few inches of snow topped our own walkways. I cleared the side path and Dave took care of the front walk. No one was there at the time, but someone dropped by later in the day. Our shovel work cleared the way for comings and goings, for engaging in daily life.

Shoveling isn’t particularly fun, and sometimes it’s exhausting. It’s usually only appreciated when it hasn’t been done – in its absence. Then its value is revealed. With snowflakes falling as I write, I’m inclined to think that the spiritual life is all about seeing and appreciating the value of such things. A mature spirituality allows us to know the value not just after the work, but before and during. Perhaps, with enough snow, I’ll work my way closer to it.