The Silence Of The Snow Speaks!
“The heavens are telling the glory of God” (Psalm 19:2).
Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow! I know my enthusiasm for snow is not shared by all; but as a northerner, raised in Northeastern Ohio, I love all that cold white stuff and all the many things that come along with this meteorological event. So as you might imagine, I welcomed our recent snowfall.
As I sat on my sofa watching the snow fall on Friday afternoon (Jan. 12), I was mesmerized by the beauty of what my eyes were gazing upon – and what I thought had captured my attention for a few minutes, in reality, drifted into hours. As I watched the snow fall I was transported back to a time and place that didn’t seem so long ago, but at the same time felt like a different lifetime. As I sat and soaked up the sights and sounds, it was reminiscent of the many times I sat in front of the big picture window in my childhood home watching the neighborhood fall silent as the snow made its appearance. Our cul-de-sac became eerily quiet as sundown approached and, ultimately, provided the backdrop for the many lessons the snow would speak in its silence over the years.
Even though I lived in Youngstown, Ohio, for more than 30 years and had experienced snow more times than I can count, the anticipation and excitement for the first snowfall never lessened. I think this was always the case because I knew it would bring with it familiar cherished traditions, beauty beyond compare and be a source new discoveries. As a youngster I came to know my snow! One was good for packing, ideal for snowballs and forts. Another too icy for sledding at Chestnut Hill Pavilion; yet another the perfect powder at ‘Peak n Peak’ for skiing. Snow that came too fast and furious (blizzard conditions) would prevent us from making our way to Bear Creek for tobogganing, and the wintery wet mix would be heavy, making the never-ending chore of shoveling unbearably cumbersome. Naturally, as a youth, these things were first and foremost on my mind. As I grew older, sitting in front of that window watching the snow fall, my thoughts became less about earthly endeavors and more about lessons the snow had to teach.
Christine Fitzgerald tells us to “view creation with an eye toward heaven,” and I think this is a wonderful way to describe the transition I made over the years. A winter snowfall, quite a natural event, softly speaks of God’s grandeur, his presence and a moment he wrapped in a blanket of white and gifted to us as a pause to just be!
I hear so many express frustrations when snow has interrupted daily routines – events cancelled, schedules disrupted, work delayed and schools closed. Maybe this is a way that God so subtly is able to break through and allow us to slow down – even though it is for a short time. We change our pattern of life and do things differently, which may allow us to experience and see life in new ways. Who can deny the quiet that the snow brings – literally – and the sense of peace that comes to our world? If we are present to that, we are reminded that when we embrace a life in Christ, we too can have a part in bringing that to “our world” as an agent of peace.
When the world presents itself in black and white, things that normally are blended throughout the scenery and go unnoticed take a more predominant position. I mean this literally and metaphorically. We find ourselves more aware of whom we share our space – the creatures (like the migrating dark-eyed junco) of the earth as well as our neighbors who are always with us. Their needs now come into view, and we become more aware of how our lives are intertwined.
There are so many more revelations that I could share, but my purpose in presenting the practice of the pause is to encourage you to unwrap the gift of the glistening snow. Explore the lessons that await you! Given the chance, the silence of the snow will speak to your heart!
