It was coming. Like a freight train that couldn’t be stopped. I saw the first few flakes start to fall outside the window and panic set in. So much I just realized I needed to do. That I wanted to do before the inevitable power outage would come. My husband said it would and as he likes to say “If I tell you the moon’s made out of cheese, get your crackers.” That is cowboy-ese for “Trust Me. I know what I’m talking about.”
So I started scrambling. Like a mama hen gathering her chicks…fast and furious. It was coming. I kept looking out the window and it was falling faster and coming down sideways. Hurried. Sideways. Like me.
I started checking things off. I’m a list maker, a note taker. I take great delight in writing things down on paper or in my head…and then checking them off. One by one. House vacuumed. Floors mopped. Furniture dusted. Oil lamps retrieved and dusted off and wicks trimmed and oil poured. Matches ready. Bacon frying, potatoes cut and ready to make soup.
So much to do and now it’s done. I’m done. Settling in now. Ready for whatever is coming. And it just keeps coming.
The snow is not done. It keeps coming down and piling up. Like my list of things to do. I had just settled in. I was done. Then I remember the clothes in the dryer needed folding. And I was going to get a shower in case we have no hot water tomorrow. And I need to mix some cornbread to go with the soup. I thought I was done. But it just keeps coming.
Isn’t that just. like. life. Just when we think we are caught up or living on the mountain we remember another errand needs to be run, report needs to be done, horse needs to be fed. And I was all ready to settle in for the long winters night.
And in the midst of the busy, the screaming kids and beeping oven, the snow just keeps coming down and draws me to it. So out I go to take it in. A few quiet moments on my porch and with my camera to take it in.
Such a paradox this white stuff is. Fast and furious it falls. Soft and quiet it lays. It silences the rest of the world while settling in a soft whisper on everything it touches. And in a matter of moments, everywhere I look is covered. White. Pure and quiet and white. Clean and fresh and new.
Inside is chaos and lists and needy people. Outside is peace and pure and quiet.
Perhaps this is a mirror of our redeemed selves in Christ.
What He sees on the outside. Washed white as snow. Clean. Pure. Being made new.
What we feel on the inside. Never satisfied, always striving to do and be more. For Him. For ourselves. Our job. Our family. And the harder we try, the further we find ourself from where we want to be.
When in reality, He only sees the snow.
He accepts our filthy rags and covers them with unending, never failing, undeserved Grace.
And it keeps coming. Grace upon Grace upon Grace. It falls from the sky like manna from Heaven. And we only have to pick it up and take it in.
Maybe one day we will get it. We will start to see the snow and leave the rest behind. Maybe we will start to live and breathe what He already sees in us. Start to see ourselves for what we are IN Him.
No more sin stain. The scarlet letter on my chest has been erased. I forget that.
I don’t have to live so rushed, because the most important things in my life aren’t things. They are flesh and faith.
And my own flesh and faith are weak, but in my weakness He is strong. And in His strength, maybe, just maybe I will start to see the snow, too.