Minus three degrees
Expectantly I look toward the window in anticipation of the morning light.
Though still early there was a hint of dawn, almost hidden between the layers of dark gray clouds. Morning is coming. It will come, though I do not know what color it will be aside from the cold blue of winter. It was still. Silent. The birds were not singing and scurrying around for sunflower seeds and dried fruit. This silence, much as the silence of the desert, is not without a message. Often the message comes on the breath of the wind bringing to mind truth stored in my heart. The message rings as true, “Believe me, I will not fail you,” and my soul responds with affirmation. I attempt to do my work, but as the sunlight bursts through the unusual cloud formations I must respond, camera in hand, seeking to preserve the glorious skyskape. Every branch is encased with ice… leaving an impression of a forest dusted with diamonds. It is as if the joy of the day has been scattered upon everything in sight; it is enough delight with which to dance into the promise of the day to await the table filled with what the Lord has prepared for me this day. He has prepared it. The vision outside my windows is as music that will accompany my every effort for the day, and I must divide my focus, to take care of responsibilities and to celebrate the beauty of what God has created. My husband brings in more firewood to keep us warm and the fragrance of freshly brewed coffee adds to the lavish richness of the day. Lord, may every thought and deed of this day be aligned with Your purpose for my life. Amen
It is again a brand new morning. The roads are still treacherous with ice. It is snowing again, soft gentle snow, accompanied by peace from above. It is a set apart time. It is a day to make a rich kettle of soup and to make homemade bread, both adding the fragrance of warming comfort, and to spend time listening in stillness. It is a time of restoration and renewal in preparation for the coming of spring. From Isaiah, those whose hope is the Lord will be refreshed and renewed with strength as promised. We will watch in eager expectation.
Softly, gently, quietly drift downward
Perfectly formed crystals of snow
Each unlike the other and yet the same....
God’s endless creativity blessing us with beauty.
Falling for hours in the stillness of His presence,
Covering the broken, the ugly, the plain...
Covering the beautiful just the same,
The snow softly covers traces of man’s imperfections
At the same time outlining and making
God’s creations even more lovely.
Graceful tree branches, red berries,
The contrast of evergreens and leafless oaks
Reaching upward to the sky,
The contours of the hills and meadows
Made more distinct by the snow.
The birds cease their singing,
The deer stay quietly in their woodland shelter,
Even the sun’s bright rays are not seen.
It is a time to reflect on God’s tender mercies.
My footsteps break the pristine perfection
Of this soft white carpet.
As I walk peacefully through this earthly cathedral,
Nothing compares with God’s paintings...
His canvas is perfection in form and light.
Even the soft, subdued light of a wintry morning
Cannot be duplicated in any medium.
I turn my face upward and snowflakes brush my cheeks.
I feel the fullness of the silence.
Standing quietly, expectantly, I feel
His all-encompassing authority in the form
Of His gentle love.
It is a time of reverent thanksgiving,
For He has refreshed me and restored me
In perfect stillness.
Ina May Pummill
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