Let's just turn our faces to the Son.
Because it's snowing here today, and we are frustrated.
Waking to a white world, shaking our heads no.
Born and raised in Montana.
And still saying "No."
To Snow.
Are you smiling?
Do you ever wonder at the way God put it all together?
Us yet buried in the death of winter.
Cocooned away in grey.
Waiting for this struggling burst of beauty, color, and...
FLIGHT.
Longing for wings so much it makes our skin hurt.
And how we must wait on the Lord because He's the weatherman.
He keeps us tucked away in holy hibernation.
Quietly.
Hidden.
Away.
Until it's time to try.
To Fly,
Bernadette
We didn't wake to snow--just cold, cold winds whipping harsh and reminding that it isn't the calender that determines the seasons, it's Him. "He keeps us tucked away in holy hibernation." Love this imagery of God wrapping us up in the winter--that we're not buried in frozen snow but buried in Him. Your thoughts here inspired a bit of my Eucharisteo list tonight. I'm sure you'll know which lines when you read them!
ReplyDeleteB. You need the dead of winter to get to the beauty of spring. We have had no moisture all winter and now the fires are burning everything up. Desperate for moisture...
ReplyDeleteWhere are you, friend? I can't imagine...just can't. Fires in March? I am praying for rain right now.
ReplyDeleteBlessings to you.
Bernadette