Snow Peas

Two peas in a pod? Not usually. Yet as soon as the first snow hit, I, just like my little sister was inclined to blog about it. Let's just say we're two snow peas in a pod. (If I felt it was appropriate to use emoticons in a blog, I would enter a smile here.)

Of course my kids were giddy this morning, drunk from the dazzling, crystalline portrait outside the window that they immediately began daydreaming about destroying. Visions of snowball fights, forts and sledding danced in their boyish minds.

I, on the other hand, am filled with hope by the pure white veneer that masks mankind's marring imprint. Residual garbage, concrete, the web of wires that cover increasingly more terrain, and hunks of dented metal we call vehicles are all hidden or disguised with sparkling, soft, light and forgiving beauty. I prefer it not be disturbed. Let it linger.

So it does, but not for long. Soon several cars have driven by and the snow in the streets takes on a brown tinge. The undisturbed luminous blanket covering the backyard now has tracks and snowballs and leaves mixed in. The snow accumulation has become too heavy to balance on the cables overhead. Still, my feeling of promise endures.

It reminds me of how God looks at me, pure and clean. Mistakes and scars are covered with pure beauty. In this I find the ability to forgive others and see them in the light of perfection and hope. So do I find the ability to forgive myself.

I love the clean slate that the snow represents. I love the light it reflects. I love the differences it hides and the gaps it fills. It represents hope. It is a love I share with my sister. And, it's just plain beautiful.