Be Still and Snow

Lake Wedowee in the snow.jpeg

This season the most important gift I received (so far) was December 8th, smack dab right in the first week of Advent.  I was ramping up for a busy holiday season, ready to perform holiday duties: to wrap with perfection, to bake beautiful breads and cookies, to embrace the rush of the season with all the lists and parties and must-dos.  But on December 8th our Divine had something else in mind, to blanket my little part of the world with snow.

In the south, we don't get a lot of snow, so the beauty of watching big fat white snowflakes land, and actually stick to the ground, was simply stunning. And four hours later, ten inches of snow and an invisible layer of ice smothered the ground.  I stayed busy in the kitchen preparing for a party, but the Divine wanted me to stop and pay attention. To listen. Be still and know. Slow down. I am here and I am trying to tell you something.   And I continued to cook and clean.  And then like the song, that's the night lights went out in Georgia, okay, yea, I was in Alabama, but you get my snow drift....all went dark.  But in that darkness, the message outshined my expectations for the weekend.  Be still and snow.

And I got the 411. Be Still and snow.  And the more I sipped tea and watched it snow with not a sound but my own breath, I knew I was in for forced rest. And I needed it. I needed to stop and pay attention to the Message of the season, my physical needs for rest, my goals for embracing growth in the cracks of my broken, disappointed heart.  Brokenness has allowed me to hover in the place where I know there is a bigger picture.  The snow reminded me to slow down, and for a few minutes each day, rest.

Without rest, we cannot give our best. It is a great loss to rush through the meaning of Christmas.  Be Still and Snow. Thank you for the intangible gift of Christmas and the power of being still.