I look outside my window as the clock strikes 12. I see the rain pattering down in the muddy puddles; the construction of Morton is still in progress. I stare into the puddles seeing the pool that was there this morning. It has all sunk down into the ground by now, but whispers of the past remain. 

I turn my eyes up towards the heavens and look at the grey sky in anticipation. The forecast said there was a chance of snow, and I knew not to hope; yet, somewhere deep inside of me I was begging for snow. I don’t know what it is about snow that makes me so happy. I truly don’t mind going to classes tomorrow (which may be because my first one isn’t until one, but seriously, this isn’t why I am excited about the prospect of snow). I don’t want people to be inconvenienced or put in danger, but there’s something simply glorious about snow. 

It reflects the sunlight and makes the world bright and happy. It makes you think of a sandy beach in the depths of summer or being all alone and barefoot in the middle of a forest while it’s raining. It makes me think of camping and hiking and kayaking and exploring this beautiful planet. It makes me stop and marvel at how creative our God is. He literally created snow. He created these beautiful little particles that arrange into beautiful patterns when the temperature is just so. Then the particles fall into the shivering grass and slowly stack up until all you can see forever is a glaring white. 

The white snow reflects the moonlight and a magical aura surrounds you. You’re too lazy to put on shoes, so you float along on top of the snow. You are fully connected with God’s nature. You walk briskly, carrying a bucket of steaming water. You look up at the sky and stick out your tongue. You’ve always heard of people catching snowflakes on their tongues, but until now you never got it. A cold whisper lands on your tongue and you finally understand. It’s like a whisper of a kiss, blissfully wonderful. You laugh a bit and it echos back. You finally reach the frozen water trough, and you heft up the bucket, splashing it in. A warm breath breathes on your neck and a muzzle nuzzles against your shoulder. You hop around a bit, careful not to get stepped on; you rub your fingers down her mane; then race back like a green colt. You go to get another bucket of water. This time your toes are freezing, so you cave and look around for some matching socks. You give up and grab a handful of socks and layer them all on. You fill the bucket up in the tub, carry it out and pull on your crusty boots. While you’re at it, you grab a jacket and consider putting on pants (instead of your athletic shorts), but laugh a bit and run outside (as fast as you can with a heavy sloshing bucket). You do this a couple more times, then decide to walk. You climb over the fence (avoiding all gates, because 1. Too much work and 2. There’s no fun in that) and crunch into the snow. It smells like frost, Christmas, and pine trees. You have Lorelei’s nose for snow and you are filled with joy. It’s you alone in silence. Birds are chirping, but they are far away. You look down and look at the hoof prints in the snow. It could be reindeer, but no, it’s too small. ‘Oh, it must be a goat’, you realize. You look up across the open field; it’s absolutely splendid.

Isn’t there something magical with snow? It could be my nostalgia, but it could also be its innate beauty. Snow covers up the dirtiness in this world like Christ covered up my sin. He took me and made me clean. He came down like snowflakes and covered me in him. I am now safe underneath him. I am able to reflect his light like the snow reflects the sun and the moon; I am made new. Snow signifies winter. It also signifies death. I must die to myself and be reborn in him. Snow is the starting step in this process. I must give up my control and hand it over to Him who knows all. 

Oh, how I wish it would start snowing, but I suppose I don’t need the snow to see God’s glories. He has saved me and created this beautiful place. I can see his glory in the muddy rain, in the cloudy overcast days, in the humans he created, in the wind that chills me, and in our creativity that was given from Him. He is everywhere around me. He is worthy of my continuous praise and thanksgiving. We as Christians are called to glorify His name and pronounce him as King of Kings, Lord of Lords. He is our everything. Let’s not forget his power. Let’s keep him sacred. Let’s worship his majesties.