There’s something magical, almost ethereal, about running outside while it’s snowing. Especially early on a Sunday morning, when it’s just you and the paperboy, and the streets aren’t bad and the wind isn’t bad and you feel like you’re running in a computer screensaver circa 1999.
Actually, in doesn’t seem right; neither does through. No, when the conditions are right, it feels like you’re running with the snow. Like the elements aren’t there to challenge you, but to grace you.
Running with the snow this morning, I felt a tiny sense, a whisper, of peace and clarity. Nothing dramatic or mind-blowing; it didn’t even happen at the top of a tough hill climb like these moments normally do. It happened as quietly and gently as the snowflakes nestling into my hat.
Feeling that quiet, that clarity, in the midst of the “storm” (because I know you folks up north are having a healthy laugh right now) made me think, and reminded me of a thought I had a few days ago. It came to me as I was emerging from the shadows of a frustrating afternoon, and I had to write it down because I have the short-term memory of a goldfish these days. The thought was this:
What if the pit that I so often find myself in, and trying to get out of, is actually not a pit at all, but instead God’s way of trying to help me get to the bedrock, which is Him?
I’ve been struggling with post-holiday blues, and I’m still learning to roll with being a stay-at-home mom. But looking at down times this way, rather than as nothing but a dark hole of despair, helps me.
Maybe it will help you too. Even if you’re not into the idea of God, think of this: the low spots aren’t there to remind you of your weakness, but of your strength.
And with that in mind…let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!