So long, 2007!

I can't help feeling a bit of elation to say farewell to another year. Not because it's been a more difficult year than previous ones (it hasn't), but because every year--indeed, every day--that passes brings us closer to the day of our Lord!

I decided some years ago that making New Year's resolutions was not very productive, but I must admit that there are always things I think about trying to do better in the new year. Usually spending more time in personal devotions tops the list, followed closely by sending birthday cards to family members and elderly church members, generally followed by my perennial effort to lose weight. And this year I'm thinking that I would like to make more time for writing poetry and working on my novels. But I'm not making any resolutions...

Speaking of novels, I received this sweatshirt from my daughter, Ariel, for Christmas --

If you can't read it, it says: "Careful, or you'll end up in my novel."

Ice Pix

With two major ice storms since the first of December, we've had plenty of opportunity to marvel at the beauty of creation.

Dave and I took some pictures one evening last week in Pella's Central Park.

And I took some the first morning the sun shone last week.

It was beautiful, but Dave has also had plenty of opportunity for driving on ice-glazed country roads. Those driving conditions combined with the high volume of pre-Christmas mail have caused him to put in extremely long and stressful days. He has been delivering the last part of his route in the dark, using a flashlight to check the mail. We are more than ready for today's anticipated thaw. We woke up several times during the night to the noise of ice chunks falling from a tree and crashing onto our house, thundering down the roof, and scratching against walls or window screens before hitting the snow-covered ground. The disturbed rest seems a small price to pay for cleared roads.

So Much Depends

Yesterday we had another lovely snowfall. Few pleasures in life are more enjoyable than sitting in a warm house, watching birds at the deck feeders while fluffy white flakes fall. It is especially enjoyable when you know that your family members are safe.

The beauty of the red cardinals in the white snow pierces the soul. A poem began to grow in me and this morning I wrote it. Those familiar with the famous poem by William Carlos Williams will recognize the pattern on which it is modeled.


So much depends
(with apologies to William Carlos Williams)


So much depends
upon

the sovereign
Creator

of the fat red
cardinal

fluffing bright
feathers

in the falling white
snow.

Nival Reflections and Narnia

Our first snow fell the day before Thanksgiving, covering the bleak November landscape with a beautiful blanket of pure white.

The first snowfall, making November's mud and grime appear pristine, always reminds me of Christ's atoning sacrifice that makes believers appear whiter than snow in God's eyes.

But Christ does more than simply cover up the dirt and grime of our lives; he removes our sin from us as far as the east is from the west. And he takes it upon himself. The concept of the first snow as covering falls far short of the reality.

But snow is cited by David and Isaiah in biblical references regarding forgiveness. In Psalm 51:7, David writes, "Cleanse me with hyssop, and I will be clean; wash me, and I will be whiter than snow." And the prophet writes in Isaiah 1:18, "'Come now, let us reason together,' says the Lord. 'Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are red as crimson, they shall be like wool."

Both of these passages stress God's initiative and power as well as the radical nature of forgiveness. Snow is used as a visual reference for purity, not merely as a metaphor for God's forgiveness.

While we live, we still struggle with sin. In that way, it may seem as if our filthy sins still lurk under the blanket of Christ's purity. But Christ has done more than merely provide a white covering that hides our dark sins. He has substituted his righteousness for our unrighteousness.

That's what the first snow of each winter season reminds me. And this year, when the first flakes fell the day before Thanksgiving, I found myself also longing to watch "The Chronicles of Narnia" movie.

The movie contains marvelous winter scenes: Lucy's look of wonder when she arrives in Narnia, the umbrella seen from above while Tumnus and Lucy leave tracks behind in the snow, Peter sliding and falling in the snow, and the lampost glowing in the softly falling flakes.

And there is Lewis' brilliant concept of Narnia caught in the throes of "always winter and never Christmas," which--of course--is what our lives are like without Christ.

Those are reasons why I wanted to watch the movie when I saw the first snow. But I believe the primary reason was the movie reminds me, through its allegorical elements, of the sacrifice of Christ that frees his people from their enslavement to the deathly grip of sin and ushers them into the livegiving freedom of redemption.

First Snow

Now wash me
and I shall be—
the old-time
favorite rhymes,

while sunlight
on first snow
dazzles eyes
long blind.

Spirit-directed vision
plucks spars—
optimally opens—
and the eye perceives:

Mud and snow,
rags and linen,
dimly reflect
dirt and divinity.

But in a stable,
divinity cloaked
itself in
dirt.

On a cross,
rags washed in
blood became
linen.

Then first snow
becomes a nival
primer on nativity.

© Glenda Mathes