Snow is in the forecast today and it will be mild compared to my memories of The Blizzard of 1978 when snow accumulated three feet high atop roofs in my Chicago neighborhood. My awning collapsed. Chilly temperatures dipped and the whirling wind whipped across my face like single-edged razors. I learned to drive in extreme weather conditions on the streets of Chicago. That blizzard year, I drove my mint green Chevy Malibu confidently even though I had to be pushed out of roadside snow banks by kind, strong, men more times than I like to admit. A snow memory that surfaces during that storm is when I met up with Joanne, my first mentor in my newly found faith. It took me thirty minutes to drive to Joanne’s house, even though she lived only a few miles from me. I arrived safely and trudged through big pockets of white fluffy snow with my knee-high boots. When I got to her front door, she quickly scooped up my little baby, bundled in her car...