Made New In The Snow

This wasn't exactly a blizzard but it was enough of the white stuff to get my heart pounding. 

Maybe it's because I was born in the middle of a winter sleet storm where cars careened across the lanes of the highway and pedestrians crawled up and down the sidewalks outside the hospital on hands and knees, unable to stay standing on their own two feet.

Maybe it's from the countless hours little girl me spent sledding, ice skating, and traipsing around in the endless acres of my outdoor playland, not coming inside until I was so thoroughly cold I could only lie on the floor inside the front door and cry as my mother peeled off my icy layers.

Maybe it's from the four winters I trudged back and forth to my classes across the massive tundra  that was my university campus, dodging in and out of cozy buildings along the way for a blast of warm air  and temporary relief, then playing a few games of Asteroids before class to make my frozen fingers nimble enough to hold a pencil.

Maybe it's about the years I've spent skiing down sparkling white mountains and riding back up in frosty chair lifts, floating through the hushed crystal beauty. 

Or maybe, just maybe, it's about God pouring his love out onto our world, transforming all that is broken and dirty into pure sparkling, brilliant white.

What I know for sure is that when I wake up to fresh snow, as I have several times this past week, something in my soul comes alive.

And as much as I know I was born for snow, I'm pretty sure it's a God thing.

For me, God's love is made new in the snow.