I love the snow. It’s really coming down this morning, whitening the world, blanketing it in that benediction I’ve spoken of before, in previous blog entries.
Since I’m a writer, I see parallels in just about everything. And it seems to me that snow is like Grace–it covers the landscape in glistening purity. But, of course, Grace is far better–because it never melts or turns to slush or mud or ice, the way snow does.
My life is so good, and I am so blessed. Still, my heart aches for friends facing hard struggles, for forgotten children and animals and wayward adults who do not know that the Shepherd would willingly, joyfully take them into His flock, at a word, at a turning of the heart. It is not my many material blessings that make me rich, you see. It is knowing Him.