Tuesday, January 26

The beauty after the storm...

Snow on evergreens is always so beautiful.
Yesterday however, it was hard to see this beauty.

This morning, as I took a little walk from the front to the back, I
noticed how beautiful the snow looked as it hung on all kinds of things.
Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder. It was like all the world was a fresh canvas that God had painted on - a fresh white winter scene.

As I look out of the front window, the flag flutters in the breeze. The sun is shining, and the sky is blue. It is like the storm never happened ~ except when I see the screen on the top half of the west side of the gazebo got ripped off , and snow the inside of the gazebo is full of snow. Or when I walked to the end of the driveway, going knee deep in snow drifts. Yet now that the sun is shining, and the sky is blue - somehow the fury of the storm has turned to beauty. (teachable moment here - yep you guessed it, I am about to share again...)

As quick as the first blizzard of 2010 came and left, I realize that is is just like our life isn't it! ( I was sharing some of my thoughts with my sister this morning, as I was in a reflective/introspective state again this morning, and writing it in my journal when she phoned.) After the storms of life hit, if we are patient and willing to take in the world around us - we will see some beauty.... eventually. I don't think I see it often right at first either.

Often we have advanced warning of a storm, and can run for cover. (been there, done that) Other times, we know we are in for a storm, but then the storm hits with more vengence and force than we expected. (often we feel like we were totally unprepared, or didn't understand or foresee the potential magnitude of the storm approaching.) Nothing feels better than to be inside somewhere safe, warm and out of danger. It is usually from this vantage point, that we are able to watch it unfold, or maybe just hide!

When we are in the midst of it - it is often all we can do to keep standing. Sometimes we have to press in to it to keep upright. However, we do. God knows that. Often when we are watching, our breathe is taken away and we are stunned by the force of the elements around us. Usually, after a storm has passed, it is all we can do to regroup and take in the damage around us. Regardless - we usually rise to the occassion, picking up the pieces, and figuring out the next steps. (honestly, as I write this, I have just had pictures running through my mind of the earthquake "storm" in Haiti... and suddenly my "storms" in my life seem very small in comparison, as I watch death upon death, and destruction upon destruction, and tears and praise all mixed together). Somehow they are figuring out next steps... mainly because they have no alternative. They HAVE to move on... they have to get back to life, although it looks very different now.

I have come to realize that physically recovering from storms is much easier than emotional or mental recovery from storms. I think many of you get what I mean. Often being able to do something physical in itself feels like you are making headway. I think the emotional recovery takes much, much longer. (again in Haiti, how will the little ones work through the emotional devastation, the loss of home, of parents, of security) Again, my emotional "storms" seem small in comparison.

Sorry, I don't mean to be vague - just thinking out loud again. That is just how I process! (and aren't you glad you are privvy to this merely by the click of your mouse!)

Well, with the storm passed, and Alvin's night shifts over ~ I was glad to be able to hug him again and see his truck in our yard. Coming home, he stopped to chat with the neighbor across the street, (who is a Senior) and said he would eat lunch and come and snowblow his driveway again. He tries to keep an eye on their driveway for him. It is just easier with the tractor and blower. Yes, sometimes I get impatient because he is so busy helping others - however, I am glad that it is his nature to reach out, and he knows that I support him fully and I am glad this is who Alvin is. Not only is he able, but he just does what he feels he needs to do. I love him.
So now, we are both inside, and waiting for supper - and it is good. The storm is past. The country looks sparkly white and beautiful. All is well with the world. Thank you God.

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