on weather

For part of the afternoon, I was riding along with a security officer in a local community. We simply spent an hour driving around, looking. It was impossible not to simply absorb the colors.

I could feel at home anywhere with these vibrant trees. Even here.

Drove through my favorite park on the way home, hadn't been there in a few weeks. The green is gone, and patches of yellow pop up here and there in the valley. Couldn't we have this variety all year long? No. Then it wouldn't be this special. We wouldn't be this grateful. Or, we'd simply be so in love with the outdoors the nation would lose efficiency and we'd all be paupers. But we could be paupers outdoors.

The weather man mentioned flurries Saturday night. Something in me wanted to sigh deeply with relief, and whisper "it's finally here." I cannot explain why having a cold nose gives me joy, or why a snow-covered world feels like the base, like normalcy has finally returned. Like I am finally on my own ground. Like I could possibly be in control again. On the other hand, the thought of being completely alone in winter is more frightening. The Donner Party comes to mind, and the winter depression of 2004.

But, sledding comes to mind. And snowmen. And the soft "trudge" sound of footsteps.

Come, Lord Jesus, and show us life.
We want to change the world,
but we don't know how.
We want to throw our arms around our brothers and sisters,
but we cannot reach them.
We want to break the bonds of self-centeredness,
but we are not strong.
Come, Lord Jesus, and show us how to live
before we die.