Wednesday, December 5, 2007

First Snow

the seasons first snow silences a cacaphonous schedule, and brings an agenda all its own.

i told pastor paul yesterday, "we're both 37, we both know what we're giving up by getting married." wolf later commends me on that comment, i'm still not sure why. tonight though, i wonder at the depth of it. wonder if i can keep claiming my sacred stolen moments or if i'm sacrificing them forever.

the cousins are off at conrad's birthday party tonight. i revel in having the kitchen to myself, revel in concocting the latest iteration of gypsy soup while catching up on the phone with people i love. great music fills the tiny space. my jingly hipscarf--hallmark of cleaning the kitchen-- is in the coldhouse. nevertheless i find myself, as ever, dancingdancingdancing while JEB leaps and prances counterpoint.

will i be able to "dance like nobody's watching" when wolf shares my kitchen? will i be able to "love like i've never been hurt" even if he brings the pain? i "live like it's heaven on earth," because it is. can i remember that when he tries to convince me otherwise?

i tumble into the night and discover the snowstorm's second casualty. i patch things up as best i can, fingers burning bitterly with cold. in this case daylight is mandatory for a complete repair.

i discover, to no surprise, that orion shines brightest between friesian ears.

JEB and i continue onto the night, into the oaks. we cross beneath the edge of the storm front, where an obscuring haze aglow with sickly city light gives way with 90 degree finality to black brilliance blazing with stars. i talk to God. His words are strangely silent tonight, but His presence has me on my knees,
sobbing in fresh-fallen snow.

He's in charge.

He showers me with The Good Stuff. and He gave wolf and i each other.
eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man the things which God hath prepared for them that love Him (1 Cor 2:9). in other words, we ain't seen nothin' yet!

a single step in faith moves me through the darkness, the deep snows. a single step followed by another, and another, and another carries me through the silent night....


  1. Beautiful post. I understand your jitters! I think the dancing gets better. There's nothing like being alone as two people.

    God bless, and thanks for sharing a snowy evening.

  2. Thank YOU, Sandy! Your encouragement turns hesitation to halleleuias. Now I can't wait to be alone as two!

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