When I next looked out the window, about an hour
later, I noticed about ½ inch of the white flakes covering my front sidewalk.
Before long, the flakes grew fat and full, filling the sky with a flurry of
white. The snow fell so thickly I could barely see the buildings across the
street. By day’s end, five inches of
snow coated my yard, the driveway, and the street in a spotless blanket of
white.
On the evening news, forecasters predicted more snow
overnight. They were right. When I
looked out the window in the morning, I could hardly believe my eyes. Every
surface on our patio sported huge mounds of white, towering like volcanoes into
the wintry day. One of the two steps down to our patio had completely
disappeared, buried under white crystals. Eight more inches had fallen
overnight and more fell that afternoon, giving us a total snowfall of over 14
inches.
That afternoon I tramped around the yard in
knee-deep snow, trying to capture the beauty of the white-frosted yard with my
digital camera. Everywhere I looked my eyes feasted on loveliness. As my boots
sank through the snow, I noticed the lack of noise. The snow muffled sound as
if the whole neighborhood were wrapped in a fluffy cocoon.
The world slowed. Schools cancelled classes, meeting
dates changed, businesses closed. For a few days our winter-wrapped world was
muted. Still. Slow. Quiet enough to hear the tiniest of whispers.
Only when I allow my soul to be still can I hear the
voice of God’s heart whispers. When I first take time for solitude, I later
hear that still, small voice through the busiest and loudest of circumstances.
Father God, still me. Slow me down. Let me listen to
your soul whispers.
Psalm 46:10a “Be still and know that I am God.”
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