Grace Like Snow

We just had our first Chicago snowstorm of the season, and it turned fall leaves into Christmas spirit overnight. For some reason, snow always makes me want to write. Seriously, when I was nine, I wrote a poem about snow. It happened one night on a whim, probably because I was overly excited about a snow day the next day. I remember how giddy I was when I wrote it, and for good reason.


I loved the way the moon shone brighter through my bedroom window when it reflected off the glistening white, the excitement of the early morning phone call cancelling school, and the hot chocolate waiting to thaw me out after sledding.

I loved how everyone drove slower, like flurries cancelled out the hurries of the world and made schedules unimportant.

I loved being the first person to put my footprints in a smooth drift and then falling face-first into it, trusting the snow to soften my landing. I loved letting the flakes melt on my tongue and laughing when they got stuck on my eyelashes instead.

I still love the way the world stops when it snows. People are united in slow motion on slippery walkways and slick roads. Strangers stop to push cars out of driveways and help shovel sidewalks. Everyone is in the mood for warm drinks. _MG_7088Nestled in my cozy house on a snowy Saturday, I realized that there’s another reason I love the snow. The fresh sheets of white remind me of God’s grace.

If my life is the dead winter grass, his mercy is the new snow, making a beautiful landscape out of what was barren and filthy. If I am the hurried driver occupied with my own problems, He is the icy ground, reminding me to slow down and think of others. When I wake up in the morning and see a world covered in white, I am struck by a love that I shouldn’t need a blizzard to remember.

Soon, when the sun comes back out and life returns to its normal pace, I get to be reminded anew that God is even bigger than snowstorms. His grace doesn’t go away every time the ice melts, and I don’t have to live in condemnation when the powder gives way to mud.

But I can still look forward to those nights when the moonlight hits my pillow just a little brighter and I know my Creator is covering the world in fresh beauty once again.




Photo Credit: Nikki Randall Photography


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