Snow Day

It's the kind of snow that comes down in thick, wet flakes, sticking to my hair and my nose and my tongue (which, of course, is hanging out to catch it). It's sticking to the trees, too, transforming suburbia into fairyland. The boys across the street are building barricades and itching for a fight. The neighbor kids have the first big snowball ready for their snowman. I have firewood on hand and everything I need for a batch of homemade hot cocoa.

I love today.

Waking up to fresh-fallen snow holds the same wonder it always did, even though I'm a grown-up now and can't stay home and don't even own a sled. Suddenly the world is clean, and even the drab parking lot behind my cheap apartment brims with potential and magic. I know I'm far from the first to make this observation, but when I look out my window at the white-draped world I can't help but be reminded of how God blankets my dinginess with His purity. That's cause for a wonder that only grows, and with it gratitude and delight and awe.

"Blessed is the one whose transgression is forgiven,
whose sin is covered." - Psalm 32:1