I gazed out the window: mountains of snow, icicles weighting trees, and whirling snowflakes created an icy tundra.
No one wanted to go out in it.
No one except our Rottie, Minna. At three, Minna needs lots of daily exercise to keep her from going stir-crazy in the house. Minna sat by the door, begging to romp in the snow.
Bundling in many layers, my husband and I took Minna outside. We weren’t thrilled to venture into the frigid temperatures, torn from our toasty fire in the living room, but Minna needed to burn off some energy.
We slowly inched our way after Minna, who happily jumped, bounded and leapt through the six inches of snow. We fought the artic wind and exerted copious amounts of effort shuffling down the hill to the trail into the forest.
Once in the woods, the wind was cut considerably, but I kept my chin tucked inside my scarf, snuggled inside the collar of my coat. My hood covered my hat, my eyes watched the snow fly off my boots with each step. I refused to look up, to open my face to such an icy assault.
A mile into the woods we went, Minna having the time of her life. I realized I wasn’t cold one bit and began to notice the silent stillness and the beauty of the sun reflecting off the freshly fallen snow.
We paused at one of Minna’s favorite places and I finally tore my gaze from the frozen tundra beneath me.
I could hardly believe my eyes. The sun’s piercing rays caressed the frozen ice ornaments dotting the trees. Never had I seen such glistening beauty as the dark branches practically danced with ice diamonds against the white backdrop of a winter wonderland. An occasional cardinal dropped a dot of red into the scene, promising cheer through both its colorful presence and happy song. That frozen no-man’s land was a picture of tranquility and beauty. A raw beauty that would soon melt in a few days, never to be seen again.
Sometimes, storms are so fierce, so tumultuous, so drastic, they create a unique aftermath of peace and reassuring beauty.
But in my quest to get the journey over with so I might return to my warm, comfortable home, I almost missed seeing this rare serenity.
How often do I do that in the storms of life?
I keep my head down, bracing myself against the cold ferocious wind, threatening to knock me over. I stare at my feet, trying to place one foot in front of the other while pushing myself through difficult trenches. All the while thinking, ‘I just want to get this over with!’ My complete focus is often consumed with completing the task of escaping the storm.
I don’t stop to stand still. To see what God is creating through that storm. I refuse to be still, trust Him, and know, with every fiber of my being, that He is God. That He’s got this!
Standing there, gazing at the gemstones, the sunlight streaming a kaleidoscope of colored rays, I realized something: I was still in the middle of a frigid, challenging path. Each step I took to exit it required strenuous effort and focused concentration. Each bitter cold breath would sting my lungs as I forced myself to continue on.
But I needn’t fear. I needed to look up. Witness the unfathomable beauty God created from the raging storm.
The clean fresh blanket of snow. The silver, frozen ribbon of stream.
The black bark contrasting vividly against the frozen white tundra.
The crisp air filled with promise that the worst was over…
No, as the paths of life threaten to turn me around and challenge my sense of direction, I need only to look up to Him. Trust in Him. Cling to the promise that even this, is already redeemed.
Isaiah 43:1b reminds me, “Do not fear for I have redeemed you.”
It’s like God is whispering, My child, I love you. Tear your eyes from the ground just for a moment and look up! Witness the magical beauty I created with the whipping winds, the harsh freezing rain, and the mountain of silent snow.
The return home was just as difficult; my body tired as we continued to plow through the deep snow, bracing against the cold wind. But my attitude was no longer one of suffering, but one of quiet wonder. Very few people would get to see the jewel-laden limbs with the stark trunks breaking the blank backdrop.
Very few would hear the quiet crunch under their feet or smell the fresh cold promise of a new day covered in the clean, fresh, frozen blanket.
Indeed, very few journeying through might look up, witnessing God’s creativity of weaving wonder and beauty from such a ferocious and fearsome storm.
But He does, with great regularity. Doesn’t He?
But if you are like me, you might miss it just as often. Instead of searching for beauty, I begrudgingly bundle and brace, battling to bear my burden.
Instead, I must remember to look up to Him. Trust in Him. Cling to the promise that even this, is already redeemed.
Power verses:
Proverbs 3:5-6 Trust in the Lord with all you heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to Him and He will make your paths straight. (NIV)
Isaiah 43:1b Do not fear, for I have redeemed you. I have summoned you by name; you are mine. (NIV)
Prayer: Dear Heavenly Father, Thank You that no matter what storm I’m in the middle of, You have me and I can trust that You will redeem even this. Thank You! In Jesus’ name, Amen.