I didn’t know I was flying towards the biggest snowstorm Israel had seen in 150 years. I didn’t know the road to Jerusalem had been closed earlier in the day, and would be closed again. I simply slipped in through the narrow window of opportunity God kindly opened for me.
It was Thursday. Heavy rains on the coast were about to turn into flooding…and as the airport shuttle made its way into Jerusalem, it began to sleet, and then to snow. Huge fluffy flakes cascaded down through the air like waterfalls of feathers.
Our driver warned us that he might not make it to everyone’s neighborhood. I couldn’t fathom trudging homeward through all that, plus a suitcase. Thankfully, I didn’t have to. Not only because he dropped me off at home…but also because my suitcase wasn’t there. I was sure that someone else had grabbed it by mistake, but I had to wait ’til morning to find out.
On Friday morning, jet lag woke me before the sun, and I felt like a child on Christmas morning. Snow arrives in Jerusalem only rarely, and it rarely lasts more than a day before melting. A snow day here is twice as much fun as at home, and I couldn’t wait for it to begin!
Turns out I wasn’t the only one. Lots of folks living outside the city, perhaps thinking that the day’s lull meant the end of the storm, brought their kids to see the snow. But Friday night, it began to fall again, stranding hundreds of these “snow tourists” in Jerusalem. In fact, they formed half of the 1500 stranded folks who spent the night in a convention center at the entrance of the city.
All main roads leading into the city were closed — either through flooding, through snow, or in order to keep even more cars from becoming stuck. On Saturday (and part of Sunday), Jerusalem was completely cut off. Well, except for a couple trains from the coast, but flooding slowed them down.
By that night, up to three feet of snow had fallen on the city. I say “up to,” because the hills and valleys, plus proximity to or distance from the Judean wilderness make Jerusalem a patchwork of micro-climates. In the southeast, minimal snow fell, and quickly melted off. Elsewhere, folks are still digging out their cars. Some neighborhoods lost power; some did not. I read that at least 9,000 households were blacked out over the weekend. Hundreds of abandoned cars on the roads kept snowplows from doing their job, prolonging the return to normal.
But young soldiers went door to door to offer help, or began to clean up the myriads of shattered trees and branches. University students invested their unexpected windfall of free time in much the same tasks. Some folks offered their four-wheel-drive vehicles to transport supplies or patients. An off-duty paramedic and midwife who were stuck in post-snow traffic helped deliver a baby girl.
It was a mess. A huge mess. (Who can adequately prepare for a once-in-150-years storm?) But what Israelis lack in snow savvy, they more than make up in sheer joy at its arrival. And believe me, they managed to have a whole truckload of fun.
Snowmen and snowball fights were everywhere, and the huge Sacher Park was full of sledders. Some folks had galoshes. Some had real boots. And some trudged happily by with plastic bags over their less-than-winter-worthy shoes. I saw big coats…and I saw a guy in jogging shorts.
As for me, well, my suitcase adventure gave me a grand tour of the snowy city. Turns out that one jet-lagged lady + a hasty driver unloading “her” bag from the back of the van + one brother-in-law schlepping it through the snow = the mistake wasn’t discovered until late Thursday night. Meanwhile, her bag had disappeared into the mysteries of the shuttle system.
Fridays are always an iffy day to do business, since everything shuts down early for the Sabbath. A snowy Friday meant that her bag would not be forthcoming for another day or two. But thanks to an intrepid friend with a car, I could pick mine up at her home.
On the warmer side of town, I saw cars driving through a mini-lake on one road, its waters brushing their undercarriage as they chugged slowly through its depths. (In city center, snowbanks at the curb could easily hide deep puddles….and while galoshes may seem like the footwear of choice for such slush, you try walking in what amounts to ice water). On main roads, you had to weave around the stranded cars. And on the colder side of town, most roads were reduced to one lane. On side roads, parked cars lay under a three-foot blanket of snow…and hardly anyone was making an effort to dig them out.
Friday’s tour was so much fun that I was happy to go along on Sunday, when my still-intrepid friend decided to help out the lady who had shared my shuttle ride. She still hadn’t gotten her suitcase, and she needed the medication it contained.
The shuttle service’s phone lines were jammed, so we decided to reach them the old-fashioned way. We had to park at the edge of city center and walk to their office. Uncleared sidewalks and fallen branches meant it was sometimes easier to saunter down the road itself, competing with much fewer than normal cars. We found the office, manned by just two guys. Spotting the suitcase near the door, I caught them in a phone-free moment and explained that we’d come to pick it up.
“Please. Take it! Take it!” the harried man replied.
I don’t recommend pulling a wheeled suitcase along sidewalks that are covered in packed snow. A little of that was quite enough for my friend, who parked me — and the suitcase — near the curb, and went to retrieve the car. Standing in the sun, I shed my coat for a sweater, and watched the folks digging out their cars on a side street that was fit only for four-wheel-drives.
Imagine, for a moment, that you have none of the snow paraphernalia that some folks take for granted. No shovel. No snow-blower. No scraper for the car. Instead, you clear it off with swipes of your arm, hand, or scarf — or perhaps the foam squeegee on a mop handle that you normally use to clean your floors. You dig your car out with your hands, with your squeegee (it’s called a sponga), or else you kick the snow away from the tires.
Back in the car, we spotted the first bus to appear in days; it was rather like sighting some rare beast. Snowplows (actually enormous yellow front-end loaders) had left even more enormous piles of snow. A Bobcat (rather like a mini snowplow) attracted an audience of 6 or 8 people, simply by clearing off a sidewalk.
When at last we arrived with her suitcase, our new friend’s sister had taken the elevator down and was standing outside her building in the snow, intent on inviting us inside. So in we went, where we met the family, and were treated to tea, conversation, and freshly-baked cake.
On our way home, we were stopped at a light (or more likely sitting in traffic) when I saw two little boys with snowballs at the ready. I gave them a nod of encouragement, they gave me stares of disbelief…then gleefully pelted our car.
In a country that never gets rain in the summer, snow is a serious blessing. This storm just dumped down half of the water we expected from the entire winter! Israel’s main reservoir, the Sea of Galilee, may soon register full for the first time in my memory.
Unusual trials — for a purpose. Overflowing blessings. Childlike joy.
I can’t help thanking God that I arrived just in time for the snow.
For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven
and do not return there but water the earth,
making it bring forth and sprout,
giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater,so shall my word be that goes out from My mouth;
it shall not return to Me empty,
but it shall accomplish that which I purpose,
and shall succeed in the thing for which I sent it.
Elisabeth Adams 