On my way to work this morning, as I was driving down wretched Route 28 …
(mind you getting annoyed at the lady who honked at me from behind when I pulled into the McDonald’s parking lot because I was blocking her way as I waiting for someone to get in their car so I could pull into my spot – only to find she wanted to get by me so she could drive another 6 yards to the drive-through where she would be waiting in line ANYWAY – not to mention my coffee being forgotten about after I ordered it inside – as Kevin James says, we “sweat the small stuff,” don’t we?)
…I noticed that the trees were very bare. The earth appeared gloomy, and grey, as it usually does in January…and February…and March.
The roads, having just been engaged in rainfall absorption, were slightly wet and the grass was dewy. And there was an undertone of fog hovering over city.
I have mentioned this before, but the months that follow after New Year’s Day are dreadful. If you’re like me, you wish them away, trying to speed them up as much as possible counting the weeks until spring.
I shouldn’t be too depressed about February because my birthday is in that month, but the older I get the more reason I feel to be depressed about it.
I just hate winter – it reminds me of sadness, and darkness, and fear, and cold-stone nothingness. There is literally no life and the atmosphere seems breathless.
But just as the older I get the more depressed I feel about my birthday, the older I get the more I also realize how beautiful winter is.
-------The unexplainable splendor of the way fallen snow paints a picture on a bare tree holds wonder and delight. I can remember a day a few years ago when Manassas had been more than dusted with flurries and left the most amazing canvas down my street.
Winter also is the host for mystery. It reminds me of woodsmen hunting, and deer flaunting, and bears nestled in chilled coves – people with knitted hats and warm booties, cuddled up in fire lighted homes reading books.
I find it is the secret hiding place for soberness and reflection, too-------
I still find it cold and bitter amongst all these beauties, as it is the holding place for deadness into new life.
Much like our pre-Christ hearts.
Before knowing Him we are dead. We have no feeling in our limbs, much like the bare, dead trees.
But once we accept His saving grace we “spring” forth into new existence, finding breath and meaning and color. We become alive.
He turns the dead trees into fruit, the grass becomes green again, we see the sun more often, and flowers bloom.
Hallelujah for life everlasting!
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