I can hear the wind before I get up. It’s harsh. It’s the sound of winter.
It brings thoughts of months of being cold. Thoughts of the worry I’ll wrestle while a couple of my kids drive on icy roads. Thoughts of the unwelcome, unrelenting chill that moves over these century-and-a-half-old floors.
I’m a summer person.
I can do without this kind of thing.
One of the younger boys wakes. I hear him upstairs, too, and soon there are three pair of feet pounding down the stairwell.
“Snow,” they shout. “Mom! Look outside. It’s coming down hard. It’s the very first snow!”
I leave my bed, pull my robe tight, and follow the voices. I find them, these three young men, in the kitchen. They’ve been to the closet, and they’re pushing their feet into last year’s too-small boots.
“We don’t to miss it!” one boy says.
The wind has quieted a bit and the sun has come up. I help my boys as they gather coats and hats and mittens and scarves. The puppy is awake now, too, and he joins the excitement. When I open the door to let him out, he goes wild.
He’s never witnessed such a scene. It takes about 45 seconds for the boys to join him, and soon there’s a bevy of boyness running like mad in the heavy, wet snow.
Their voices fill the stillness.
Their footprints are captured in white.
Their cheeks turn rosy while the thick flakes swirl.
And something swells in my heart.
I love it when the Lord works in this way. When He graces me with moments of beautiful and stops my world still with His unique brand of delight.
After a few minutes, a son comes to the window. He’s nearly breathless, and I notice that flakes have caught on the blond bangs that fringe his winter cap. He taps on the glass.
“You should come out, Mom,” he says. “Grab your clothes. I think the snow packs. Come on out and play?”
I’m warm and cozy inside, watching from the window. But I know that such an invitation will not stand forever. And I also know that while I’m comfortable and content, just where I am, there’s something better outside.
I head to the closet for my own snow clothes. I’ll throw them on right over my pajamas because my boys are right.
This day holds something precious…
Sweet, unexpected joy.
