Snow.

Just the sound of it sends excitement through me.

Yes, from the time I was a little girl  growing up

in the Catskills of New York

I’ve had a love affair with snow.

We’d walk back and forth to school

No matter how deep the snow.

Stumping it with our boot covered feet.

Me, dodging snow balls and my brother throwing them

to the boys across the street from us.

Snowmen and snow forts

and bowls of snow ice cream.

When I moved south to Virginia

the snow followed me.

I’d be as excited as the first graders I taught

watching the  small flakes grow bigger and bigger.

Seeing it pile up on the fence posts

and on each tree limb.

Happiest of memories was getting that call

early in the morning

announcing that school was cancelled.

Change of schedule

Time to play.

Blankets of whiteness all over.

Turning the pages of the wordless book in Sunday School.

Black for my heart was black with sin

until my Savior came in.

Red for his precious blood I know

has washed me white as snow.

There it was again.

The white page. Snow.

Everything washed white and clean.

A new beginning.

Sins forgiven. His matchless grace.

In the south they speak of ‘calling for snow’.

Sounded strange to me when I came down here over thirty years ago.

Who calls for snow?

Seems it is the weathermen.

Sometimes they call for it but it doesn’t ever come.

Childrens’ noses pressed against the glass

Mothers’ worried eyes.

But it doesn’t come.

But then other times they call for it and it comes.

God is the Author and Creator of all.

We watch again as I write this blog.

We wait to see if perhaps we will be blessed with

the miracle of snow again.

I hope so. Its beauty always thrills me

But we will see.

One thing is true though.

His blood,

His precious blood

Still washes all our sin away when we bring it to Him.

Wonderful miracle of grace.

No one is ever disappointed.

Amazing grace that keeps cleansing us from all our sin.