WINTER WONDERS AND WOES  

 “O LORD MY GOD, YOU ARE VERY GREAT; YOU ARE CLOTHED WITH SPLENDOR AND MAJESTY”. 

           Fog hanging low over the country, dismal, dreary and damp.  The big tree a few yards away is shrouded in the clinging mist and even the snow and sky are bleak gray.  I have no desire to go out in this gloomy world where the cold sinks clear through to the bones and frozen particles in the air sting my cheeks. 

“HE WRAPS HIMSELF IN LIGHT AS WITH A GARMENT; HE STRETCHES OUT THE HEAVENS LIKE A TENT”

            A few hours after dawn, the fog begins to lift, and as tendrils trail along the tree tops and across the buttes, the sun shines through the gray mist lighting the world in a golden glow.  Victoriously the sun breaks free and before my eyes, the gloom is transformed into a glorious wonderland.  Sparkles everywhere, long fingers of hoarfrost holding prisms of color, crystals glistening on trees, grass, and snow, blinding, beckoning and brilliant.  A dark day changed in a moment by the brilliance of the sun. 

            Wind blowing forever.  Relentless, howling and screaming around the house seeking an entrance, furious and wailing like a woman scorned. Like a live thing it pushes, shoves and tugs, then pokes through layers of clothes to chill the bones.  The wind never fails to carry the new fluffy snow away and pile it in hardened drifts, only to move those drifts to another spot the next day.  The wind is forever against us, battling our every effort, filling the driveway with drifts after being plowed, covering a path that’s been tramped down, piling snow in front of a door that’s been shoveled clear. Walking or skiing into it is like climbing a steep hill or pushing against a giant hand.  When skiing with it I glide without effort on the level, sometimes pushed along faster than I want to be.  With a cross wind my ski pole tangles with my ski, pokes my boot and is tugged from my hand.  On hard, icy snow, I am shoved helplessly sideways. 

“AND LAYS THE BEAMS OF HIS UPPER CHAMBERS ON THEIR WATERS.” Ps104:1-3

            Skimming over the hard drifts on a calm sunny day without tears streaming down my cheeks, or my eyeballs drying up like puff balls or freezing in their sockets, is a wonderful gift. Snow glistening on the hills like moonlight on still waters.  Wind sculptured drifts with curves of different shapes and sizes.  Gleaming waves frozen in the fields.  A wide blue sky contrasting with a white, shimmering, wind-blown landscape. 

“THEN THEY CRIED OUT TO THE LORD IN THEIR TROUBLE”

            Rigs stuck in the snow, a tractor buried up to the frame in the ditch, frozen sewer vents, blizzards keeping me homebound, John’s tanker truck sliding backwards on a steep hill, minus 30-40 wind chills seeping into the many cracks and crevices of the house, high heating bills, wind burned lips and frost bit ears are all the woes of winter on the high plains.

“HE STILLED THE STORM TO A WHISPER; THE WAVES OF THE SEA WERE HUSHED.  THEY WERE GLAD WHEN IT GREW CALM AND HE GUIDED THEM TO THEIR DESIRED HAVEN.  LET THEM GIVE THANKS TO THE LORD FOR HIS UNFAILING LOVE.” Ps. 107:28-31 

            But oh the wonders.  John enjoys plowing snow with his tractor, that he managed to dig out of the ditch and I love winging over the drifts on my skis, my spirit soaring free in this quiet open country.  The dogs love running and rolling in the snow and chasing bunnies to keep warm.

            The gleaming eyes of my grandkids as they open Christmas presents. Their ooo’s and ahhh’s at each surprise.  The wonderful gift of spending time with Stephen and enjoying Christmas with him and the kids.  Maci and Jacob’s delight of discovering Gramma’s barn complete with straw, and cats.  But alas, no cows or horses.  I was told that every barn should have cows and horses.  Their joy at going on an adventure decked out in snow gear, Jacob well armed with his “cowboy” pistol and holster at his side.  “A cowboy,” he told me,“usually has a horse.”  Hint hint, Gramma.   Maci’s adventure included conquering deep drifts through which I ended up dragging short-legged Jacob.  To which he proclaimed, “I’m never going for a walk again!”

“YOU ARE RESPLENDENT WITH LIGHT”

            A light shinning out of nowhere on the butte; bright and blinding like a spotlight. I stood on the road in the dark of night and beheld the awesome sight.  Towering above me were the steep sides of the butte shimmering like silver in flood lights.  In fact, the whole north face of the Sentinel Butte seemed to be silver plated.  I stood in awe and stared, knowing the full moon was reflecting off the shiny crust on the snow from the freezing rain we’d had the night before.  I have never seen such a wonder. 

            I was transported back in time to a similar dark night when brilliance from a multitude of angels illuminated some sandy hills near Bethlehem.  A blinding glow bursting from the heavens, flooding the shepherds and their sheep.  No wonder the shepherds were afraid and fell on their faces, they had never seen such bright light.  And the sound, can you imagine?  Hundreds, maybe thousands of angels singing.  Raising their voices to the sky, filling the country not only with radiant light, but also with wonderful melody.  The angels at last had a chance to let their presence be known to humans, to be heard in praising their God.  I would think they took advantage of it and raised their song to the stars.  The shepherds had never seen such a wonder.

“MORE MAJESTIC THAN MOUNTAINS RICH WITH GAME.” Ps. 76:4    

            I stood on that road for a long time with the brilliant silver light of the full moon reflecting off the shiny side of Sentinel Butte. The glistening moon light reminded me of the light of God’s love and brilliance, of His glory radiating in every single heart of his children.  In my heart.  Could I ever reflect that love and glory like the big ole’ dark lump of a butte was doing in the moonlight with the help of some crusty snow?

            Could it be that I might need some freezing rain and frigid temperatures, some driving sleet and buffeting winds to be able to reflect the brilliance of God?   I’m like that butte, dark and barren, rocky and steep, hard and unmoving.  However, maybe with some grinding and bending, chipping and pounding, shinning and buffing, I can become a polished arrow hidden in His quiver, ready when He sends, to fly straight to the mark.  Displaying His splendor.  Could it be?  Oh the wonder.

 “HE MADE MY MOUTH LIKE A SHARPENED SWORD; IN THE SHADOW OF HIS HAND HE HID ME.  HE MADE ME INTO A POLISHED ARROW AND CONCEALED ME IN HIS QUIVER.  HE SAID TO ME, YOU ARE MY SERVANT,  IN WHOM I WILL DISPLAY MY SPLENDOR.”  Is. 49:2-3

Read Ps. 104