savoring the snow

dearest rory,

hi.

what's up?

if you say 'not much', then I think you are mistaken. just take a walk outside and look up at the dark clouds overhead. a trillion white frozen water droplets floating down from the sky will land on your nose and prove you wrong.

lots is up. and lots is falling down.

snow is wonderful, isn't it?

I first remember seeing snow back when I was four. we lived in Hanover Park at the time. in a duplex that we shared with a man named Larry who was almost seven feet tall and never wore a shirt. the garbage hill was just across the street. so was our neighbor who owned an iguana. but that's besides the point.

that winter we had a huge snowstorm. my sidewalk transformed itself into a tunnel and I still remember the feeling of walking through it, dragging my sled behind me as I hurried towards the garbage hill. yeah... the garbage hill doubled as a sledding paradise.

I don't remember much else about that sledding trip or winter, but I remember loving the snow.

doing school was difficult yesterday. not because the work was hard, but because there was a swirling world of whiteness blowing past my window. several times I realized that I had let my eyes drift from my math book to our front pine tree, watching the snowflakes build up on the evergreen branches. I guess the accumulating snowflakes were more interesting than the compound interest rates failing to accumulate on my notebook paper.

I was thinking about how cool it is that such small things like snowflakes can change the world. they make the winter grass go from brown to bright white. they cover even the dirtiest spots and make them clean.

snow always reminds me of Christ.

Jesus is holy. He is pleasing in the sight of God. when He came to earth and was killed, He took our sins upon Himself, upon the cross, and redeemed us, His children. and He didn't stay dead, but He defeated death and gave us the hope of eternal life. He wiped our accounts clean so that when we stand before God, He doesn't see our filth- He sees Christ's blood- He sees perfection.

one Man's sacrifice changed the world. one Man's sacrifice is slowly coloring our grungy world white.

Jesus paid it all, all to Him I owe. sin had left a crimson stain, He washed it white as snow.

yesterday I was confined to watching and dreaming about that beautiful world from a window, but today my friends and I went on an adventure and rearranged several million of those snowflakes.

all of us arrayed ourselves in warm sweatshirts, colorful hats, flowing scarves, and poofy snowpants, climbed to the top of a hill, and plowed new courses in the snow as we screamed and laughed and tumbled through it. our sleds carved paths as we sailed down the hill, sending snow in every direction- including backwards into our pink faces.

someone had the bright idea to build human ramps that would launch our sleds into the sky and hopefully set us gently on the ground again. the guys lined up and braced themselves while a sled packed with girls raced towards them. sounds smart, right?

let's just say the ramp failed.

oh we sailed through the air, all right. but we were no longer on our sleds. those were imbedded into the sides of the guys. and I wouldn't really say we had a smooth landing- but we did have a lot of laughs as we rolled through fluffy whiteness.

in the end, our noses got a little chilled, our knees got a little wet, and our hair got a little attacked by our hats. but we had a blast.

and afterwards we went to Wendy's where my cheesy potato and medium coke commited suicide by jumping off the tray and exploding on the floor.

it was humiliating. but I was grateful for friends who could laugh with me.

I'm glad for the snow. for the memories I have surrounding it. for the way it reminds me of Christ's love for us. for the friends I have to play with in it.

what's your favorite snow memory?

your friend,

muffin

life, death, & microwave popcorn

dear muffin,

I admit; the title is a little dramatic. humor me. :)

lately I've been musing. [which can look remarkably similar to day-dreaming. ahem.] there's nothing like a lengthy to-do list for bringing it on: that pensive mood in which one sits at one's desk, stares at one's wall, & considers the meaning of one's life. 

actually, I'm not sure it's fair to blame the to-do list. I tend to feel this way at the beginning of a every new year. 

December is too hurried for musing. from the time it starts with a tentative shopping trip, to its careening, late-night end on New Year's Eve, December feels like one long party: a blur of snowy sparkles & Christmas lights & curling steam from piping-hot mugs. piles of shoes in the doorway & lighted candles & enough food to feed several small armies. if there is time for a thought, it's only a brief moment of overflowing wonder at God's goodness. or else an incoherent bursting of happiness in general.

but December 31st has a tendency to be followed by January 1st. [funny how that happens.] the party spins to an abrupt end & leaves us reeling in its wake. the Christmas tree comes down & festive decorations go into hibernation. everyone puts their Christmas cheer into a cardboard box in the attic, and, without a second thought, life is back to normal.

I can still see the Christmas lights in my rearview mirror. a carol is ringing in my ears, & there are a few leftover cookies on the counter. but suddenly I'm looking down the runway of an entirely new year. what just happened...?

whatever it was, it's over now. with heads full of memories & hearts full of warmth, it's time to go back to normal. we restart the mill of everyday life & enter the cycle all over again.

thanks, but I'd rather not. in fact, I'd prefer to stay in my pajamas, make popcorn, & watch December 2011 on repeat. keep the glow alive. 

Who invented January, anyway? a long, dreary month painted in shades of grey... it's something of a letdown after December's vibrant color. see that puddle of melted salted slush? let's sit there awhile. I'll write a monologue on the cruel passage of time & you can sing a lament for glory days past. 

but that's the pessimistic outlook. put on your perspective glasses & you'll see things differently. here we are, blinking in the winter sunlight. our lungs breathe sharp air; around us, as far as we can see, blessings line up for us to count. air with oxygen, lungs for breathing it; love, joy, & hearts for holding it. friends & family to share the road. the page has been turned by the strong Hand that wrote our stories long before we arrived to live them; here is a gift. a new year. a year of beginnings & continuings & perhaps even some endings. grab a blank to-do list, pull that cute new Christmas hat over your ears, & burst out into the fresh snow. make tracks; leave snow angels; outside, there's a whole new year waiting to be traveled. make plans & start afresh, never letting proverbs 16:9 slip from your gaze.

surely this is how Lewis & Clark felt the day they set out to cross this side of the world.

so: away, dreariness! we're looking at a blank canvas; let's not start with a haphazard streak of watercolor. break out the acrylics & ask a five-year-old how to fingerpaint.

I'm not one for new year's resolutions [any more than other-day resolutions, anyway], but if I had to choose one, it would be this:

use well the days.

happiest of new years to you, friend. 

always,

rory