The Voyaging Storyteller

It’s only been a few weeks since winter break, and already it feels like so long ago. The stresses and responsibilities of life have transformed me into a frantic hamster, endlessly running in a wheel and going nowhere, while the prize is actually far to my right. I didn’t have the heart to write a post about the glorious New Year and fresh starts and new beginnings, because frankly, it felt like the sticky middle of a marathon where you’re so exhausted and the finish line isn’t even within sight (not that I’ve ever run a marathon before…because if I did I’d collapse long before reaching the middle.)

And then it snowed. Here, in my own little corner of Texas where it does not snow, thank you very much.

I caught a glimpse of one tiny snowflake at breakfast. And then another. And another. Shrieking excitedly, I ran all around the house, perfectly overjoyed with this:

My camera lens was clean, by the way.

I didn’t dare hope or pray for anything more, but God must have heard that tiny voice from deep within me, because not long after, this happened:

My little Texan heart was filled to bursting. I abandoned those worries and anxieties and stresses, I pulled on my boots, I dove into my coat, and I ran outside.

I’ve read those stories just like you have, all those tales set in snowy northern lands. But for the first time in my life, I understood what snow sounded like, the utter silence of a world being tucked inside a blanket, broken only by the soft pattering of snowflakes as they land in tiny thumps. For the first time, I felt the gentle flakes melting into my face, catching onto my eyelashes and my tongue. I threw my head back and my arms out, gazing at the heavens and marveling at the thousands of snowflakes twirling and spinning down in an endless dance. And I screamed for joy.

I plunged into the wintery woods with Micah, constantly reveling in every crunch of our boots in the snow and in every leaf lined in frost and in every pine bough heavy with powdered sugar. We dashed excitedly from one tree to the next, laughing in delight and pointing out random branches that would have been otherwise overlooked.

Isn’t that cool? Just a few hours ago this was a field of golden grass

We explored and soaked the glory in for hours, our excitement never wavering. I was fueled on mostly by the knowledge that the snow would be all gone until the next day, and that it would never return for at least ten years. And so we made full use of our time, exclaiming in wonder at the surreal impossibility of it all and drinking everything in, so we would never forget.

*Narnia vibe intensifies*

The next day, as I expected, all the magic had disappeared. The roofs were no longer frosted with sugar, the grass looked sad and yellow, and it all seemed like a dream that had never really happened. But there are the pictures, and here are my memories, and I will treasure that day for a very long time.

Unfortunately, unlike the snow, my worries and stresses remained stubbornly in place, but their bite had lessened from a whole day free of them. This miracle restored in me the hope that although this world can be so difficult, there are many pockets of light that glimmer through.

And, as I discovered, sometimes the best way to ease our anxieties is to simply enjoy life, one beautiful day at a time, and frolic like a child in the playground of Nature, trusting in our Father to watch over us and relishing in the gifts He gives us.

You’re never too old for that.