First Snow

I woke up this morning and wandered, bleary-eyed, into Soren's room. The window blinds were open and morning was streaming into the nursery. Cold, white morning. I don't think there is a more magical day of the year than the first morning you wake up to snow.

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Yesterday Scott and I were walking to the library when it started to rain/slush. I couldn't really suppress a little hop-skip-and-squeal; for some reason it felt marvelous to turn my face up into the falling slurry. I pulled Soren's wrap up over his head and he fell asleep while we walked, getting wetter and wetter. It was absolutely wonderful. I said to Scott, "I love weather." I loved walking, all bundled up in hand-knit items, and feeling how different it was from walking in the heat only a few months ago. The newness of it made it feel like a special gift, falling on my head straight from heaven.

Then we passed a panhandler standing head down in a wet sweatshirt, cold and with no place to go. Here I was, enjoying a jaunt out in the invigoratingly chilly air while he was enduring it, hoping it would stop. I'm sure there's a lesson in this. Compassion, empathy. I was grateful for the sudden slush shower because I had a warm apartment to go back to. Or a library to hurry on to. He didn't have either of those things; surely the cold rain was no blessing to him. Still, I'd felt the love of God in that bitter sweet condensation.

The library was full of hobos. I was glad. Perhaps it wasn't so callous of me to be grateful for the fluctuating weather. Because of the great economy of my Father, I could feel His love in chilly, melted fingerprints on my face even as they could feel His love while sinking into a warm, public armchair.

Things I was grateful for on this walk: changing weather, my comfortable apartment, a lesson in compassion, and the public library.