Yesterday's weather forecast of "snow, with possible accumulation of up to an inch" finally played itself out to about five inches here in the hay field. Soft, fluffy, wet, and deep enough to cover the stubble of last summer's burned up grasses. Deep enough for tromping and sledding and building snowmen. Deep enough to still be here a day later!
Sunrise on the snow covered hills was beautiful. Of course, all the snow around the house was thoroughly stomped up by dinner time last night, but the slopes further out are still untouched. This morning, the hills sparkled like jewels in the soft, blue light of morning. Beauty, still unmarred. A fresh invitation to PLAY!
Looking at the glistening hills around the house this morning, I couldn't help but think how much they are a picture of so much of my life. Smooth, perfect, unbroken snow. But underneath, the scars of two (three?) years of drought. Hidden "rocks" - piles of frozen poop, reminders that last year, we had to turn the cows into even the hayfield to forage for every scrap of grass. Ruts from the tractor and the truck, erased and smoothed over by a blanket of white. Muddy, slushy muck, lurking just a few inches beneath the pristine canopy.
I went to get a haircut last week (yay!) and the friend who snipped away at my shaggy mane commented that she had seen Mrs. June the week before. Mrs. June is a precious older saint...a tiny, soft-spoken woman, but a giant in faith. "I told Mrs. June that she really needed to be praying for your family, that you all were going through a lot right now." Julie's scissors suddenly froze in mid-air. "I wasn't out of line, was I, asking her to pray for you? I didn't think you would mind, being it was Mrs. June..." The look on Julie's face showed a grave concern that maybe she had spoken out-of-line, violated a confidence.
"Julie, if there's anything I'm learning through all of this, it's that I have got to be honest...put the truth out on the table. Quit pretending that things are okay when they're not, pretending that I can handle it. No, we need all the help we can get..." I thought about tiny, sweet Mrs. June. "And having Mrs. June praying for us...could there be a greater blessing? Just knowing she's praying my name is a huge encouragement."
Under the relative routine and apparent sanity of day-to-day life lie the struggles and trials that build our faith. My faith. If anyone reading this thinks Camille Kendall's life is "together"....well, get a little closer and you'll find out different! Thankfully, when dealing with the muck underneath, I have sister saints praying for me, encouraging me, loving me through the mess.
Thankfully, I have sisters reminding me that there's not just mess under that snow.
There's the promise of spring.
found an old poem from baby felix
3 weeks ago