Everybody talks about the weather, a convenient go-to during a conversation lull. Schedules are affected by it. Moods change with it. Many love to complain about it. It’s an easy target. It’s too hot, too cold, too rainy, too dry. And what about my allergies?
Most of us keep our homes between 65-75. (By the way, who touched the thermostat? I set it there for a reason.) So what are the odds your town regularly enjoys these optimal climes? Slim. (Or is it fat? I always forget.)
Yes, I’m most comfortable protesting my discomfort.
Seinfeld: “I don’t need Doppler Radar to figure out if I need a sweater.”
Dylan: “You don’t need a weatherman to know which way the wind blows.”
And why does Snoop Dog keep keep an umbrella handy? “Fo’ drizzle.”
You can’t control the weather any more than I can control how much my Uncle Frank drank at Thanksgiving.
But I digress.
If you don’t like the weather, wait.
In this regard, civilizations have submitted to God’s will since the beginning of time.
“Weather” they knew it or not.
“… he sends rain on the just and the unjust.” Matt 5