I hope some of you noticed I that I haven’t posted for a while. That’s because I finished writing my second book and was editing and rewriting. This new effort is a book for my grandchildren. There are scriptures, short life lessons, entries from Mother’s prayer journals and prayer prompts. It should be available before summer. I’ll tell you more about that later.
Here’s today’s post.
Living in the south means a good snowfall always gets our attention. Schools are let out so buses full of wiggling children don’t accidently slide off a rural road and into a ditch. The local news channels broadcast hours of redundant footage and remind their viewers to stay home if they can.
Grocery stores love snow because people rush to the bread and milk aisles grabbing sustenance for the duration of the storm. I also grab whatever chocolate is within reach before rushing home to fill the tub with water in case the ice (that usually paves the way for the actual snow fall) breaks power lines and causes the electricity to go off. Then we “hunker down” for few days until the stuff melts.
This year February hosted two significant snow events, and I’m thinking surely this week’s snowfall is winter’s grand finale.
Nature out did herself Wednesday night with rain, sleet and finally the pristine layer of white icing so deep it covered even the stalks in last summers cornfields.
Thursday’s deepfreeze was capped off by a spectacular sunset seen from the back windows and an orange-sherbet full moon rising over the black silhouettes of oak trees in the front. The result was spectacular and caused a flurry of pictures on Facebook.
Friday morning’s sun directed its rays with the precision of Stephen Spielberg and perfectly lit each snow-covered tree so the branches sparkled like the arms of stars on Oscar night.
With a cup of coffee in hand, I roamed from room to room and as (Mama Lilly Bell would say) “mirated” over each vista. Don was doing the same thing and from the window by his desk he called for me to come and look.
The wispy elm and birch trees between our house and our neighbors’ were liberally sprinkling glitter from lower branches to the blanket of white below. A bird lit on a nearby forsythia bush causing a bucketful of glitter to cascade from the branches.
It reminded me of the dozens of bottles of man-made glitter my students sprinkled on hundreds of snowflakes cut from folded paper and then stapled to bulletin boards every January.
But the art activity outside the window came straight from the Master Creator of the universe and the effect was stunning!
The winter scenario made me realize that any little flake can sparkle if the sun (Son) shines on it. The Son’s light is surely my only hope.
This morning we woke to an azure sky and dozens of noisy robins devouring berries on the tree by the front porch.
I don’t know where they’ve been, but either Hitchcock is doing a remake of his spooky movie The Birds or they know winter has had her last hurrah.
I’m hoping it’s the latter.
In her journal Mother wrote, “It is enough for me to know that my name is written on the palm of the Creator of the world.”