Oct 072014
 
I clean in energetic spurts. And to the dismay of my children, I don’t like to clean alone. So this usually means an energy rush on my end, followed by a “calling all the children!” moment, and an instantaneous smashing of all whines and complaints. After a frantic thirty minutes of running here and there, I am pleased. I dismiss the minions, um, I mean kids, to whatever they were previously occupied with, and I sit a moment to rest.
Every once in a while, I get on a longer kick, where all-the-things-must-be-cleaned-at-the-same-time!
…only to turn around 15 minutes later and have dishes in the sink, new towels in the basket to be washed, and what do you know, everyone’s hungry again.
Phyllis Diller wisely said:
 
 
 
And then it hit me.
The snow keeps falling.
In my stage of life, there isn’t a break in the constant down-pouring of the frozen bits of water.
The snow around me falls…
  • In clothes that need to be washed.
  • In dishes that get used.
  • In stomachs that beg to be filled.
  • In weeds that fight against being pulled.
  • In dust that settles on flat surfaces.
  • In toys strewn about.
  • In brains that need to be taught.
  • In disputes that must be settled.
  • In boo-boos that ask to be kissed.
  • In imaginations that long to be heard.
The snow keeps falling. Cold and relentless.
Twenty minutes ago, in the midst of a blizzard in the kitchen, I escaped to my room to reflect. My mind was a whirl of thoughts and I couldn’t get them straight. I literally just locked my door, turned on an instrumental Christmas Pandora station, and began browsing our family photos of winters past.
Building Snowmen. Sledding Fast. Making Angels.
I smile. I breath.
I remember the peacefulness that can hug me on those rare 35 degree days with some flurries and a sun that shines brightly in the white sky. For some reason, thinking of it this way seems to settle my soul. The flakes aren’t all bad. Sometimes, they feel more like white powdery pieces of heaven, sent by my loving God.
In my thankfulness, I begin appreciating the other flakes that fall, side by side with the rest.
  • The arms that reach up to be hugged.
  • The smiles that brighten the dinner table.
  • The hands that eagerly help with meals.
  • The legs that run in circles.
  • The snuggles by a fire.
  • The intelligence that’s learning to read.
  • The fingers trying to braid my hair.
  • The competition of a game well-played.
  • The companionship while walking our dog.
  • The tears of friendship that are shared.
  • The joys.
  • The laughter.
  • The thrills.
I embrace it all.
One day, when they’re grown, there will be quiet days when the snow doesn’t fall. And I know I’ll miss the cool, individual flakes that line my lashes. The special ones that land on my heart. And the overall joy of a snow fall that brightens my day and makes my life sparkle.
So fall on, snow. And I will raise my head, spread my arms, and enjoy it for all that it is.

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