Friday, January 9, 2009

Nighttime Snowfall

As I write this, a crystalline blanket of snow is filling the landscape outside. I love nighttime snowfall. The soft stillness of cold, the close embrace of the low-hanging clouds, and the steady stream of sparkling white from above, sing to me of Greater Things.

I've been struggling to find the right music for the moment. Charlotte Martin was too raw. Mozart too grand. I'm trying Chopin, but the recording I have here, I fear, is too complex.

I may settle for silence.

Snowy nights speak to me of forgiveness. The white carpet mutes all the jagged imperfections of the earth, and yet, the large-scale terrain isn't ever completely washed out. I can still distinguish rocks from trees from bushes. Though everything retains its basic nature, all is covered in and softened with white.

At this point, the carpet covers all, but the heavens haven't stopped pouring. Perhaps the world tonight is in need of extra grace.

Tomorrow, or the next day, the sun will shine out and melt everything. Snow will give way to water, which will then seep into the ground and provide sustenance for the verdent bloom that accompanies spring.

Do you think it works that way with forgiveness? Sanctifying white streams down from above, covering everything with softness and stillness. When the process is finished, the material given from the sky promotes growth and new life in the hearts of men.

If so, what of the low-hanging clouds? Does The Source feel drawn to this special occasion, or is it a response to a need from the land to feel close to the sky?

What do you think of when it snows?