Winter has arrived quietly.
Silent snowflakes fall to blanket the earth. Cascading crystals cart-wheel down from the heavens. Wisps of my breath turn to vapor ~ now curly white, hanging frozen in the air.
Mittens warm.
Heart light.
I follow the path of snow-covered leaves as it winds slowly through the forest. The sound of my footsteps hushed on this January walk.
Trees tower above, branches spread above me like broken umbrellas.
Birds chatter and flit.
…
I find myself taking these long walks lately.
Bringing my cares into the woods. The beauty quickly quells my restless mind.
It’s as if I have stepped into my safe place.
Amid the trails and trees.
Just me and my Jesus.
Psalm 32:8
I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go; I will counsel you with My loving eye on you.
On this particular hike I was thinking of my Sweet Louise.
I pondered the struggles that these teenage years bring. Watching her finding her way.
She is owning her thoughts and shaping her dreams while still within the framework of this relationship.
Coming to compromise and lengthening limitations.
There are new territories that our hearts are having to explore.
I thought of her growing independence.
My growing older.
Then, a favorite memory crossed my mind.
She was four-years-old and had just begun sleeping in her new big-girl bed.
One very early morning I heard her stirring. I glanced at the clock and it read 3 a.m. Then the sound of her darling, tender voice in the night.
“Mommy…” She waited. Then again, “Mommy.”
I crept in the darkness to her room. She was sitting up in her bed and whispered “hi” when I came in.
Then she smiled a tired little smile. Eyes-half shut in the hushed glow of her night-lamp.
“My tummy is hungry.”
So, I kissed her head and told her I’d be right back. My slippered feet scurried to the pantry to find her favorite snack.
Gingersnaps.
With a small glass of milk we shared a sweet little nibble in middle of the night.
Cookies and giggles as she told me of her silly dreams. Then I tucked her in with a contented belly.
Soon she drifted back to sleep.
I gave her another forehead kiss then turned to leave.
…
Oh, the joy of remembering a time when she needed me.
I’ll never be certain as to what she wanted more in those wee hours.
Was it really the gingersnaps? Or was it the loving presence of her mommy in the middle of the night as she was finding her way growing up.
Those first nights in her new grown-up bed.
Proverbs 22:6
Start children off on the way they should go, and even when they are old they will not turn from it.
All these years later her challenges look very different.
Sometimes it feels angry and oh-so-distant between us.
Cold like snow.
Like a thousand winters.
Hearts breaking like ice.
That’s when I go for a walk. Handing my worries over to God. Trusting Him in this wilderness of parenthood. Recognizing that my human tendencies can easily pull us off course.
But knowing that His compass is ever set to north is a blessed assurance.
Pointing our way home.
Pointing our way to Him.
…
Today’s venture in the woods was yet another teaching time.
The sun was shining as I walked steep into the depths of the forest. Deer tracks and woodpecker drums. Winding high above the ravine, a breathtaking view. Then I hiked downward again, softly spiraling east toward the pond.
Gradually the trees opened up to the vast, now frozen landscape.
All around, cattails stood tall and still. Almost as if they too, were captivated by the view.
Water trickling over rocks.
Rivulets reflecting afternoon’s light.
Then suddenly I stopped as I looked ahead. My breath caught quick in my chest.
Where was the bridge that has always been here?
I’d walked this trail a hundred times. It’s always been my footing. My steady. My way across.
Disappeared.
I found myself confused in the moment.
I didn’t recognize this space any longer.
Nestled deep in the silence I began to weep.
I realized that God had brought me here to paint me a portrait more dimensional than canvas.
This walk, this changing scenery was a perfect parallel to my life.
It was akin to the uncharted territory I was now walking with my daughter. This space between us that is so unfamiliar. So unlike the places in time that we once knew.
Frightening at times.
Sometimes seeming to have lost our way on the journey, we look for direction.
As a snowstorm of emotion can quickly cover our path.
Proverbs 3:5-6
Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding;
in all your ways submit to Him, and He will make your paths straight.
Then I remembered cinnamon toast.
Yes.
Cinnamon toast.
God’s tender mercies can often be found in the quiet and subtle moments of our days. In the unsuspecting and routine places.
My aching heart felt reassured as I recalled the evening a few days ago…
It was a regular weeknight.
You know the ones with homework and folding laundry. Dinner warming on the stove while you’re making lunches for tomorrow. Bedtime routines and the last dwindling hours of day.
It was almost 11 o’clock and my Sweet Louise was finishing-up a school assignment.
She was tired but still needed to do a few things before bed. I heard her grumble off in the distance of her room. She was hungry.
I offered to make her some cinnamon toast. And she conceded.
A cozy comfort of wintertime.
I handed her the plate, still warm. Butter melting yellow, spilling down to catch the glistening crystals of cinnamon sugar.
She smiled a sleepy smile. Eyes-half shut in the hushed glow of her bedside lamp.
Then I saw a tear come to the corner of her eye.
“Thanks, Mom.” she said. “It was so nice of you to make this for me. I know I’m growing up and I could have done it myself, but I feel so loved when you do things like this.”
And for a moment I was back at gingersnaps.
And the feeling of connection we shared, tucked up close together when the world was quiet.
Today is truly different.
But by God’s grace, I am able to see that what we have is still beautiful.
For there in that sweet-smelling cinnamon space, God reminded me that she still does want me around.
Even when there are days when it feels like she doesn’t.
She does still need my heart and my love after all.
Proverbs 16:9
In their hearts humans plan their course, but the LORD establishes their steps.
Isaiah 30:21
Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you, saying, “This is the way; walk in it.”
By the time the cinnamon toast memory had come to a close, I found myself nearing the end of my hike. A steady incline up and out of the woods.
Soon enough I was home.
I made a cup of hot tea to warm my hands and then decided to do some sewing.
It just felt right.
Putting pieces of fabric together. Stitching two adjoining parts for a like purpose.
So I pulled out some cozy fleece that I had tucked away in the closet. The thread jar was next ~ finding a color to match.
With winter now here I thought a neck-warmer might be nice. Something to bring comfort on those chilly evenings.
I found peace in the rhythm of the needle as my foot gently pushed the treadle.
Tickety-tick, tickety-tick, tickety-tick, tickety-tick…
Emma approached from her bedroom.
“That looks really nice, Mom. Do you think I could take it with me when I go to college? To have a piece of home?”
I smiled.
And in that moment I knew God was moving again.
In the midst of my little sewing project ~ He was carefully mending our hearts. Darning the holes in the knitting of our souls.
Ahhh, the great tailor.
Piecing us together for the purpose of His plan.
Tomorrow we have another day.
From the outside it may look ordinary. A day like any other.
But if we are still, we can see it.
His loving hand gently guiding us to His arms.
Pulling us close.
Drawing us together.
So that as we walk forward into the unknowns of this life, we can forever trust that we will be held.
Wrapped and safely secured in the constant and true love of our Savior.
Even in the whiteouts and snowstorm days.
And in the sweet and cozy gingersnap nights : )
My Sweet Louise 
I really loved this post and photos. Beautiful words.
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