White Winter Days and Inevitable Clichés

The storm came, and for some reason I feel as though I never believed in snow flakes. I blinked, startled when one found her home on the window where I stood and watched. I’ve been to Colorado many times... The first five years of my life we had snow every year... I must have known that it didn’t always descend in tiny sleet-ish pelts... So I don’t know why I feel so surprised now, that for the history of the world there have been countless, all different, and mine were the only eyes to see this one before she melted. I tried to memorize her lines and cuts but failed, and that is okay. “Have you seen entered the storehouses of the snow, or have you seen the storehouses of the hail...” God asked Job. Why should snow be so beautiful? I know there is a scientific explanation for these winter jewels, but why should it be so? How extravagant.

The first day of the blizzard I asked for every outside job I could get, and when we had a break I ran outside and for thirty minutes jumped and hurled myself face first into the knee deep blanket that covers the L’Abri acres. I laughed so hard I thought I would choke to death on snow. We screamed and ran across the frozen pond, and I ate snow piles off of the leaves of small trees. They looked like little platters of icing.

This only represents a few hours of a week full of pain, prayer, laughter, anger, repentance and worship. I suppose this will be what most weeks are made up of for the rest of my life. And I can’t avoid cliches. What is there to say about winter, but that it is blueish white and new each year? There are two trees outside of our house that are about four stories high each, and naked they look like gate posts to a world of giants. I imagine myself scrambling around in snow that would only come up to their shoelaces.

There are about 18 faces at each meal now, mostly from Europe and the United States with different questions and prayers, each with their own histories and according to the Bible, each bearing God’s image uniquely. (Genesis 1) I am humbled to be here to serve them. Thankfully, most are staying the whole term, and we can get to know each other slowly, one meal at a time as we laugh and argue and seek Truth.

May you be surprised by your world today. I believe it is a work of art (as are you), made by the Great Artist, that you might draw your eyes upward. And to my beloved friend Julie, who has been ever faithful, ever generous, may you know you are cared for from Boston. I think of you all the time.