A Winter Poem in Spring

I'm looking out a window right now at that beautiful kind of wet snow that sticks to only the tops of tree branches and makes the whole world look like if you bit it, you'd taste ice cream.  Earlier, I took a walk in the beginnings of it, but it was still a pleasant surprise when I looked out later to see that it had covered everything.  I know it's almost April, and even my winter-loving self has to admit that it is now, by all official standards, spring.  I just think it's kind of funny that just because of that arbitrary division of months, some people act like this snow is an affront to the dignity of the world.

That got me thinking, too, about how we don't really get to decide when a lot of different things happen in life.  We can strive and try and even ask God for things, but they happen exactly when he wants them to happen, regardless of our plans or categories.  Just like it snows in April (and sometimes May too) in Cleveland. 

Then, I started thinking about the challenge of staying in the present.  I wrote last time about how the desire to have everything right now gets in our way.  However, that doesn't change the fact that right now is really the only moment we have to work with.  I think our problem comes when we spend now focusing on later or already.  When we do that, we effectively take ourselves out of the present.  What's more, we make it very difficult for people to connect to us because we are somewhere (or somewhen) else.

God is never like that, though.  As we try to become more like him, it's important to remember that he is definitionally the God who IS.  It's his name.  I AM.  Although he is not bound by time and experiences all the moments of it equally, he has dedicated his presence to being with us.  God with us, Immanuel, is really just a synonym for I AM in my mind.  If you look at how Jesus lived when he was here, he embodied this divine characteristic fully.  He was able to devote his full attention to wherever and whenever he was, and whoever he was with.  He knew so well how to be present.

Now, I don't think it's wrong for all you colder-blooded people to wish for warmer weather.  I just made the connection mentally that staying emotionally and spiritually present in our lives can be like trying to appreciate a snowstorm in spring.  If we can look past the potential inconvenience and the fact that the whole thing isn't what we were expecting (or hoping for in many cases), there is great beauty to be seen and enjoyed.  Although the seasons of our lives may not last as long or may last longer than we expect or want, God never fails to give us beauty out of our ashes (see Isaiah 61:3).  Instead of getting stuck on the beauty of the future (or past), why not stay in the present and enjoy what's there?

That's what I'm trying to do.  In fact, I've been trying to do it for awhile now, and this whole winter stream of consciousness reminded me of a poem I wrote a long time ago.  For some reason or other, snow has always been something that gets me thinking about these deeper things, I guess.  I'll end with this:

Comparison


faintly perceptible
falling in silence

uncounted stacking
of discrete moments

gentle brilliance
smiling, smoldering cold

overpowering flash
that marks restive roads

empty blanket plush
insulating clarity in the dark

silken momentum
across great distance

quiet everything covering
shining outer shells

restoring final stream
that gives growth future

indirect ocean
wave of frozen clean

and how could we be anywhere
but home?