“And, behold, the Lord passed by, and a great and strong wind rent the mountains, and brake in pieces the rocks before the Lord; but the Lord was not in the wind: and after the wind an earthquake; but the Lord was not in the earthquake: And after the earthquake a fire; but the Lord was not in the fire: and after the fire a still small voice.” – I Kings 19: 11-12
“And he arose, and rebuked the wind, and said unto the sea, Peace, be still. And the wind ceased, and there was a great calm.” – Mark 4: 39
I love Snow Days. I love waking up to a world bedazzled in sparkling white. I love the laughter of rosy-cheeked children building snowmen, and the sound of the teapot whistling on the range. I relish the cozy contrast between the warmth of the dancing fire in our woodstove, and the cold of the snow falling softly outside our windows. I love school closures, and cancelled appointments, and the chance to slow down and take a break from the hurry and rush. I love the peace.
It’s really easy to get caught up in the “have tos” of life, isn’t it? – the meetings and expectations, the driving, shopping, and human busy-ness. Snow days shut the busy-ness down and give us time to reflect, and take stock in what we already have.
Today I looked around at what I already had, and, feeling like a pioneer woman living off the land, pulled from my freezer a bag of blackberries I’d picked last summer, got out the flour and butter, and created a mighty fine blackberry pie. I give credit to the snow for this. If I hadn’t had to cancel two appointments, I wouldn’t have had time to make that pie.
Some people may think they see “the hand of God” in earthquakes, hurricanes, and other natural disasters, but I don’t believe my god, Love, has anything to do with that stuff. Nope. Give me a Snow Day, wrapped all up in sparkling white, and filled with peace, and I’ll show you an expression of my god.
Have I mentioned that I really love Snow Days?
Here’s a clip of the birdsong from our back deck:
Dear Lord and Father of us all,
Forgive our foolish ways;
Reclothe us in our rightful mind;
In purer lives Thy service find,
In deeper reverence, praise.
Breathe through the pulses of desire
Thy coolness and Thy balm
Let sense be dumb, let flesh retire;
Speak through the earthquake, wind and fire,
O still small voice of calm.
Drop Thy still dews of quietness,
Till all our strivings cease;
Take from us now the strain and stress,
And let our ordered lives confess
The beauty of Thy peace. – John Greenleaf Whittier