They didn't need to brine the roads, the wind just wouldn't allow these two inches to stay. So it just blew, every which way, all over the road in front of us. It seemed like it heard what I couldn't. A song somehow. That even bitter cold, and flake whites falling, know they have glory and purpose. The wind moved it all like sea foam on shore edge. Or more like time-lapse camera shots of cloud dancing above earth spin. Whatever it's resemblance, it was beautiful.
Errand to errand and my son kept trying to get my attention. Always just after we would shut a car door. Standing in bitter wind he would say, " Mama. Look..."
" hurry up Bud, it's frigid!"
And off we would scurry inside. But on our last errand he persisted. And I saw what I coulda missed. " Mom! Look! I can actually see the different art of each snowflake when it lands on the window!" I bend forward looking odd at tinted glass.
"Oh my word!"
My boy smiles happy, " told ya mom."
It was amazing! I have seen science upclose, these photos in the past, of each snow flake being so different. But never with my own feeble, hurried eyes. The window tint made for a perfect color drop to see white detail. Each flake, none a mistake. Design. None alike. And all of them...like ice carvings of lace.
We drove home hours later. I sat shotgun and contemplative. Watching again how the millions, billions, countless amounts of flakes blew and spun all art across our roadway.
So why does He do it? Why does the God of heaven and earth make art that only He can really see? Why does He memorize, with great joy, each snowflake edged perfect lace... We see inches of snow, feet of snow, snowplow piles and days till melt. But God? Piles upon piles of Heaven's edge. Individual carvings of detail and design.
And somehow I felt humbled by it all. Because He keeps sending the snowflakes even when we don't notice designs at all. And despite our curses about this cold and our ruined tire speed, He lays each one down like relinquished pieces of art.
He sets up His masterpieces on easel. His showcase upon walls. His exhibit is staged with plan and loaded with gift. But often, we never even open the gallery door. We blow by. On our way to work, pushing and bumping into people, all along sidewalk way. Or we schedule and plan, aim and conquer, and miss thing upon thing. Piece by piece. Till our life feels grey. Colorless. A blurr.
Because it's only the slow souls that recognize the beckoning.
Why do I always forget? Ann Voskamp calls it "soul amnesia." Yes. A perfect description of what has ailed us since the garden. We choose agenda over design. Control over all His crafted beauty. What if we are seeing glass when God has really scattered diamonds?
What. If.
I mean there are so many things we can't see. Impossible or not yet discovered. But He does. He sees the secret things, and I believe He delights in them. Because they are pieces of His character, scrolled out across our time and spaces.
Fish at the bottom of sea ravine...never witnessed by human eye. Stars and endless expanse we won't ever discover...just above us. Personalities and beauty in the silent souls, the ones our society labeled handicapped...
But still He paints. Even for the blind. Even for the amnesia sick soul, on a treadmill called hurry. This art upon art.
Its because He loves.
Us.
And each art full attention to details He shows, sends us this personal message. Like secret love notes scattered all across this crazy universe...
"You are loved. You are seen. Let me show you how much I care. How detailed I Am to watch over you. Child of mine... I scribble hope on the backs of leaves, and promise in the grip of a newborn... Affections warmth in sunrise, and the precision of Me in a single blade of wild grass... Because I never leave you alone. Because I miss nothing! If I have time to count the rattling song of crickets and number the stars in the sky... I have time for you. Your pain isn't missed. Your worries aren't too little for me. I see what makes you smile...even a little. Look around you My child! I love details. I make art of the little things. I tell stories through the seemingly unnoticed. So don't toil in fear that My love can be lost. Or that you never had it. You? Too little..too slight a thing on so huge a globe? No My love. You are Mine. Each small piece of you, part of you. You are made in My image. You matter. Your bigs and your littles. I love you."
Art only His eye can see... Because He is love. And all that comes from Him, is its paint brush. Strokes of His always here promise.
" On the glorious splendor of Thy majesty, And in Thy wonderful works, I will meditate...The Lord is good to all, And His mercies are over ALL His works, All Thy works shall give thanks to Thee, O Lord, And Thy godly ones shall bless Thee." Psalm 145:5,9-10
So I am inspired yet again to not have fast feet. To not accept the hurry heart. Because I love a good romance. And I have known none greater than His personal love chasing me. Capturing me and enveloping me in indescribable kindness and affection. I have journals counting all the ways He shows me love. Snowflakes and laughter, silly bargains and those verses at just the right time. A kind word, or shared eye contact with my husband... It's. Endless.
Because His love for me...for you...is endless!
We put God in a box. We size Him up and limit His relationship with us. And for what? Controlled emptiness? Yeah. That's worth it. Lol
I dare you to slow down. Ask to see the love notes. Open that box. Let God show you who He is. Let God show you how He loves.
Let God show you...He is personal. That because HE IS LOVE, it is impossible for Him not to be.
So wonder at the snowflake. Smile deep at the kindness of a stranger. Or get lost in flocks of Geese overhead. These are no accident.
Hear this quiet and soul deep:
" For since the creation of the world His invisible attributes, His eternal power and divine nature, have been CLEARLY SEEN, being understood through WHAT HAS BEEN MADE, so that they are without excuse." Romans 1:20
So go. Go see who He is.
Go see. How He loves. You.
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