What is it about a winter storm that makes my brain go crazy? Is it the quiet? Is it the forced isolation? Is it the destruction of carefully laid plans?
Is it the fact that the entire world is transformed into a blank slate, ready to be manipulated into new creations: new snow banks, new snowmen, new snow forts?
The snow is falling softly, deceptively calm and peaceful, hiding the fact that we're getting a pretty good amount of snow on top of the already deep drifts outside of my door.
It's naptime. The coffee is hot and the house noise has diminished to a dull roar instead of the normal chaos.
I'm sitting here, watching the flakes dancing outside and I can't help but think. My mind races.
The snowstorm promises a clean slate. It promises freshness and newness and white blankets and cold, refreshing air.
It's a chance to build again. A chance to create. A chance to wipe away the dirt and grime and ugliness that I'd let build up.
The snow renews my motivation to start again. To dedicate myself to sanctifying daily life. To putting myself into His presence and move forward.
I guess this feeling that the snow storm always brings isn't my brain going crazy.
It's waking up.
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