Tuesday, February 13, 2007

Dearest God,

Snow fell all day, the winds swirling the flakes, heaping them atop one another on the ever-growing white landscape. I started a fire in the fireplace, lit a candle, fixed a tall cup of old fashioned hot chocolate and toast with my homemade peach butter, then sat down on the couch to watch the snow scene before me. I've waited all winter for this moment!

I'm a snow lover! I enjoy enormously what happens when miniature snow flakes fall from the sky, everything in its path creating a new picture. An amazing spectacle of loveliness. Clinging to each object, it transforms a bush, a tree, an evergreen into a glistening display of God's handiwork. The brilliant white against the forest green colors trips the mind into a fantasy tour of beauty at its best.

Like many inhabitants in Indiana, the winter snow warning has trapped me inside my own home. The driveway is filled with snow, the wind blowing the small cleaned areas into uneven piles. I only labored for a few minutes when I realized my labor was in vain. I put away the snow shovel and came back inside. I'll have to wait until Mother Nature moves her stormy skies eastward.

Some of my most memorable times as a child included snowy weather. When our mother told us that school was closed due to poor weather, my siblings and I squealed, then hunted through the 100 year old closet for snow suits, gloves, hats, scarves and boots. We played in the snow until our cheeks became rosy red and our fingers and toes were nearly frozen. Forts, snow angels and snowmen littered our front yard. And when we came in, Mom had hot chocolate waiting for us. Sometimes her chocolate chip cookies. We loved these moments. They were sacred.

The older I become the more I realize that life is not always lived at face value. A snow storm is not just a snow storm to me. When I wrapped up in my wine-colored afghan and sipped my hot chocolate, I was not just gazing at a snowy, wintry scene. I was back on my sled going down the snow-covered hills at Grandma's house. I was throwing snow balls at my friends. My tongue was hanging out, allowing each tiny flake to fall into my mouth. I was making snow angels and snowmen with Daddy's gloves and hat. I was laughing and playing. In my later years I was sitting beside my mother looking out the large picture window as snow covered the hilly ground beside her home. I was living sweet memories made so long ago.

What makes the human mind hold on to visions of the past, some for more than 50 years? I suppose it is the need for connection. Most of my memories link me with joy and happiness with loved ones...my mom, my siblings, my friends. All the while the experiences are taking place, my mind is at work, recording details. Categorized and neatly tucked away, a trigger will bring them back to me. And I find myself frolicking once again in the fresh, pure snow from heaven.

Not all memories are joy-filled. The hurts and cuts of the past have found their own way in my memory bank. Another kind of trigger will reveal images of injury and woundedness. My mind can't distinguish between what it is of value and what is not. They both can come to me at any time. However, my spirit protects me from the deepest sorrows of my life. My faith has caused me to take a look at each memory and give each one their place. Some, I have to release into the realms of heaven. I can no longer hold on to them. Their pain is too deep. Only God can care for some memories.

I am convinced that God has a special holding cell for deep wounds. In God's own time and way these painful moments in human lives are prayed over; each one is touched by the Almighty. A kind of transformation takes place and the new life is redistributed on earth and in the creation. I don't know how or when or where. I just know God's healing power can take the most vile situation, the greatest pain in the cosmos and remake it. I envision God holding the condition or situation, the people in God's hands, tears from the Maker falling upon them, the pain taken away. New life taking hold.

My joy may be from someone else's sorrow refashioned in the Master's hand. Someone else's peace may be my own loss reconstructed for good. God has a method by which all things come together and are remade. That's what is meant by the "new creation."

All this reminds me to live a life of gratitude. God is always present, always caring, always challenging us. Our trust in God allows us to heal, to find new life, to gain perspective, to move forward. When I acknowledge God's presence in my life, gratitude always forms on my lips and I begin to offer my praise.

Today the snow brought me to God.

Almighty God
of gray skies and blue,
you are the power
of the universe.
We are specks,
tiny creatures
in a deep and wide world.
But we are your children,
children of the Living God.
Our joys and sorrows
are the same to you,
for you hold each one.
You are in the business
of new construction.
The old is gone,
the new finds it place.
And we are healed,
given hope,
and joy.
In the Master's hands.

Always, Andrea