Snow days.

What’s your favorite snow day memory?

I’m going to date myself, here…but I can remember waking up on those cold, white, winter mornings. The ones when my four siblings and I were all huddled in the kitchen around the AM radio, waiting for them to announce our school.

Alphabetically, we were toward the end of the roster. Fingers crossed.

Yes!

A snow day.

Glorious visions of unstructured, free time.

We ran to our rooms to bundle up in our scarves and mittens. Then we headed out the door in search of snowy adventures.

I remember going to the garage for old, empty buckets.  The ones that we packed with snow over and over again. Stacking the cylinders of white to build a fortress ~ an icy igloo. A cozy space we played in all afternoon.

Pulling my little brother on a sled around the yard.  We made a track at the perimeter, along the fence. I was harnessed up like a reindeer, running with all my might as he yelled “faster!” from behind.

Years pass and snow day memories are transformed.

Caught breathless by the surprise arrival of a flying squirrel at the bird feeder as I watched a late-night snowfall.

Sitting in the silent presence of a friend as the flakes fell thick and heavy during a January storm. The car enveloped in cloak of white.

Memories from the early days of my Sweet Louise ~

Building a snow triceratops out on the ice.

Sledding down the enormous hill and onto the frozen lake for what seemed like miles to her back then.

Snowflake kites.

Winter woolens.

And cocoa piled high with marshmallows.

…

I remember a year when my eldest brother came to visit. Not too long ago.

He drove in to see us during one of the most memorable winter storms of my adult life.  Traveling through white-outs and holding the wheel in blizzard-like winds, he finally arrived after a long and arduous journey.

It felt good to have him safe and warm at home with us.

I poured him some hot coffee and he told us of his adventure.

As he described his past hours on the road, I’ll never forget him saying,

“I’ve only had two ‘Come to Jesus’ moments in my life ~ and that was one of them.”

It’s been a beautiful and snowy winter here.

Like the ones of my childhood.

For most of the week, snow has been falling. One evening, I looked out the window just before heading to bed.  The house was quiet and the world was under its blanket, tucked in for the night.

I decided to step outside in the cold midnight air and take it all in.

The silence.

The snowfall.

Enormous clusters of frosty-white falling steadily to the ground below.

Mesmerizing. 

You know, how when you stand back and just watch it coming down.  It seemed to be falling toward the earth so quickly.

A flurry, really.

So fast.

Then I stepped in.

I changed my perspective an looked up. Into the snow. I caught sight of a spectacular snowflake. I held my gaze and followed it with my eyes as it moved downward through space.

As I watched that one, singular snowflake something magical happened.

It was as if all of the other snowflakes around it had also slowed down.

The moment in time expanded. 

It was so much bigger than just watching the snow from my window. Completely engaged, I breathed in the beauty.

Now tangible and full.

I heard nothing.

And then something.

Tiny crystalline clusters passing by my face to land softly on my cheek.

I smelled winter. 

Its crispness.

I was immersed in  the experience of this wintry night.

The eve of another snow day.

So often when life seems in disarray, our first instinct is to step back. To get away.

To step out. 

But what if instead, we stepped in.

…

We’re all human.

Like you, I try to protect myself from the struggle.

To wall-off my heart from the hurt.

So, my tendency in difficult or challenging situations is often to climb up into my heady space. To analyze. To take control. To attempt to manage and assure the desired outcome. Hoping to make sense of the whirling chaos.

But what would happen if we took the contrary action?

If we submitted to the clamor and covered ourselves in the quilting of quiet.

Becoming present.

Surrendering worries and relinquishing fear.

Exhaling expectations.

Fully saturating ourselves in the moment.

What if we have the choice to find meaning in the monstrosity?

In the misery.

In the  storm.

…

Our wondrous God reaches out for us with grace.

Calling us into the harbor of His arms.

In His presence, we can find peace.

We can have a ‘Come to Jesus’ moment everyday, as long as we stay present with Him.

Isaiah 41:10

Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.

With Him, moments become masterpieces.

We see God at work.

We lean in to watch the weaving together of our lives so intricately patterned with His plan.

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When you run into someone at the coffee shop that you haven’t seen for years and your stories intersect with common threads and wisps of wonder.

When you’re wringing your hands with worry, not knowing how that bill is going to get paid. Then you open the mailbox to find that a long-lost relative has sent you some money. Just because.

When your 5 year-old daughter chooses a Bible story to read before bed. The one about Exodus. About God’s provision. And you realize that just hours before you were desperately crying for direction in your life.

When your heart is yearning for connection and out-of-the-blue you get a call or a letter from someone telling you how much you mean to them.

…

This is what it looks like to step in.

This is what surrender offers.

And it’s right there for us well within reach.

Beautifully quiet.

And contentedly calm.

When we step out to try to get our bearings by our own understanding we will always fall short.

Stretching our efforts to rein it all in will only leave us weary.

Emotionally exhausted.

Confused.

And alone.

We can best catch our breath by catching a glimpse of Christ.

Stepping in to letting go, we are given an opportunity.

No longer watching life pass us by.

Falling quickly past us like the midnight snow.

Jeremiah 29:13

You will seek Me and find Me when you search for Me with all your heart.

Instead, we find space to breathe.

A holy healing in His all-consuming Peace.

We discover the Joy that He has in store for us. The lighter-side of this existence. More like those childhood snow days.

Unstructured and free.

…

And all of those moments that we used to miss by stepping out ~ well…

They become treasured tales.

Telling testimonies of God’s abundant mercy.

Of His forever love.

Falling gently down upon us from the heavens.