Snow

I love winter, and Snow! I can almost hear the clicking keys, delete, delete, delete.

Because I have never lived in a place where winters are harsh, watching feathery flakes fall from the sky is magical, for me. This year, in northern New Mexico, Snow has covered our mesa with a white blanket longer than we have ever experienced.

Our thirsty land craves moisture; however, it repels forceful rain that pours too fast. Just as Snow comforts the desert with incremental watering, Grace offers our tentative selves the gift of time, so we can accept change, guidance, forgiveness, etc.

Furthermore, both Snow and Grace give our transitions space that allows what was to become something new. Snow and Grace also invite us to pull back from production and pause to check in with Wholeness.

In younger years, I often wished to wash away the old, something only flooding rains could accomplish. As I deepened, I longed for Grace to cover my dreams, like snow, so they could slowly drink before springing forth.

After twenty plus days of lingering snow and fluctuating temperatures, our dirt road is muddy. Outside chores take twice the time, heavy trucks slide around on the icy surface and walking is a cautious effort.

It is a reminder for us. When we find ourselves slogging through life’s messiness, we can complain, burrow down and hide or find strength in Sacred within.

Finally, snow offers us a break in routine, so we might reflect back to other seasons. If we take advantage of the unscheduled snow days, with Grace, we realize that we have already named what we needed to name, confronted what we needed to confront and told the stories we needed to tell. Now, under the shelter of Grace, we can celebrate how we endured or thrived.

In winter, Snow covers everything. So does Grace. If we imagine Grace, doing what she does, we will shift our thinking to experiencing, knowing that Grace is transforming it all into the one marvelous adventure we call Life.

Sacred Ruminations*

The next time you find yourself looping, in thought, over something, stop and take a snow day. Begin with a few deep breaths. What do you feel? Can you accept it, with gratitude, as a part of being fully alive?

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