Today I woke up to my least favorite sound on a winter morning. The snow plow. And it was loud. It sounded like it was ripping off bumpers as it drove down the street. Then it came a second time. Something in my head said that I was in big trouble this morning. So I rolled over, picked up my phone and dialed the school storm line. If the kids do not have to school, I can wait a little bit to shovel. But school was on. It was time to get up.
I got dressed, brushed my teeth, and started downstairs. As I reached for my boots I noticed that the dog had made it outside this morning, but no one let him back in. Opening the door I stumbled on the best part of my snowy morning. It was just fluff. You see, I have glasses and I need to update my prescription. I looked out the bedroom window after the plow may his second trip this morning and saw what looked like six inches of snow. But if you know anything about shoveling snow, you know that six inches of fluff is a lot easier to move around than six inches of a regular snowfall, or worse, a “wet” one.
In Bible College we had a way of describing the writing of those students who knew how to spin a line. They were often the ones who waited until the last minute to write their papers, and still managed to get a high grade. We used to say that those papers written with excellent vocabulary and logic but no substance from research were “all fluff and no stuff.” The six inches of snow that welcomed me to the driveway was all fluff and no stuff. And sometimes there are Christians who are “all fluff and no stuff.”
Chris MacKinnon 