Five Minute Friday: Build

Gentle Reader,

Spent last night at a middle school basketball game. Brought back memories of my own years playing the game. Always had fun, but I was never good. Glad I discovered that my talents lay elsewhere. It’s easy to get over the disappointment of not being a great athlete when you busy yourself by being in plays and writing for the school newspaper.

Kate says: build.

Go.

Do you wanna build a snowman?

I don’t know how much of the white stuff we’ve gotten today, but it’s been coming down for hours. The big, fluffy flakes that are beautiful at Christmas but annoying by February. Long, heavy icicles dangle from the tree just outside the window, breaking off every so often, disappearing into the drift below. The few hardy birds that stick around during the winter months circle above, searching for something. Both of my dogs alternate between sighing and snoring, bored with being cooped up in the house but unable to fight the urge to sleep the hours away.

Can’t blame them. Feeling drowsy myself.

I wonder about my pioneer ancestors, the ones who trekked across the country in the hopes of making a better life for themselves. Their moments of stir-craziness must have been worse than ours. Granted, much of their time was taken up with simply surviving, but still. And for them, not a soul for miles around, the lowing of cattle too stupid to take shelter in a barn the only break in the silence.

Normally, I love silence. I love having the space to breathe and think. But at this point in the season, it’s just oppressive. Almost as if the snow wants to smother us.

Yet, for all my crankiness, it’s still a wonder to me that each flake is unique.

With that, my thoughts turn. Are there seasons in Heaven? What kind of home is God building for us there? Will I have the greenhouse I currently long for, filled with lovely flowers and the freshest fruits and vegetables?

When I think on that…maybe the snow’s not so bad. Maybe it’s still beautiful. Maybe it’s still a wonderful expression of God’s great creativity.

Maybe I can go ahead and be grateful for this moment.

Stop.

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