I didn’t grow up with snow. At least not falling outside my window. In my Southern California childhood the only snow we saw was up in the mountains. Now whenever it comes, it still seems like a novelty.
Okay, I know it can be an annoyance. The mess it makes of the roads, the back-breaking work of shoveling it, the need to cancel flights or school.
And yet, and yet. A snow day feels like a message from God saying: Slow down. Savor my creation. You don’t have to rush, rush, rush. Watch what I can do to the sky. Look at how I can paint my world.
I was a freshman in college when I experienced my first snow storm. I was studying for finals, fearing that I would fail miserably, then I looked out and saw the snow swirling in the air, brushing the trees, adding highlights where there were none.
It was as though the Creator was telling me: You’ll be fine. I’m right here. Then we ran outside and had a snowball fight and slid up and down the hill outside my dorm room.
I still have that feeling when life is interrupted by a snow day. It seems like a heavenly reminder that all we can accomplish, all that we work hard for, is nothing compared to what the Lord can do with his own magnificent brush. A gray world turns white. Everything is transformed.
Spring is coming soon enough. The crocuses are there ready to burst into bloom. In the meanwhile, as the old song goes, let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.
Glorify the Lord, O chill and cold, drops of dew and flakes of snow. Frost and cold, ice and sleet, glorify the Lord, praise him and highly exalt him forever.
