Two years ago this weekend, in the United States, we were marveling at an unseasonably early snowstorm.
It was beautiful. It packed a lot of snow. We went to bed, the world a frozen tundra under our feet, and woke up to a pure white carpet of snow. It hung heavy from the tree branches. It covered the ground, untouched yet by footsteps. It brought back happy memories of days gone by. Days when, as children, we’d hope and dream and keep our fingers crossed for the snow to come. And, when that first snowfall did finally arrive, the reaction was always the same. You’d wake up and peek out your window in amazement with a feeling of pure joy.
The first snowfall of the year is always magical. There’s something so special about seeing the ground covered in a carpet of white. And, through the frosty window pane, even before you’ve had a chance to walk out into the elements, you can just tell that the air is frigid.
There’s something so pure about the first snow. It’s peaceful. It feels like a little piece of heaven on earth.
This week, the world unitedly came to a halt and watched in horror as Paris was attacked and so many innocent people lost their lives prematurely. It was a cold reminder that this world can often be ugly and cruel. And recently, terror seems to be a common thread that binds us all together.
In a world that can at times be a very harsh place to live in, let’s remember that it’s also a world filled with blessings and goodness. At times like these, when evil rears it’s ugly head, it’s important that we come together as a humanity that is there for each other. Life is hard. But, love is stronger.
Like a first snowfall that is pure and peaceful, let hope and faith and love wash over you during these difficult weeks ahead.
After a weekend of sadness, fear and devastation, we can all use a little happy in our lives. My contribution to that “happy” is to reblog a post that I originally posted two years ago this weekend, when rather than terror, the peaceful, pure snow was on our minds.
Snow – Everything about it reminds me of my youth. It reminds me of my parents. And, It reminds me of growing up in South Bend, Indiana. The snow always seemed to be piled high from November through March. Every year. Not just on years that were considered “the year of the polar vortex,” but always. You could count on a beautiful white blanket of snow throughout winter just as sure as you could count on presents under your tree on Christmas morning. The two-way neighborhood roads would turn into single lane paths that you’d wield your car down. Snow piled high on both shoulders along your way.
Maybe this is why I still love the snow so much. It’s beauty takes me back to my childhood. And, to a time when I was living under the same roof with my 4 siblings and my parents. Every year you…
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