One day it was fall, the next morning we awoke to winter. A world of brown suddenly transformed to a world of white. Just like that.
My oldest daughter came walking out of her bedroom, eyes sparkling. “It’s SNOWTIME, Mommy!!!”
My two-year-old, upon being lifted up to a window so she could see, exclaimed in wide-eyed, sincere amazement, “Oh. My. Goodness.”
It was wonderful.
I love how every year the beauty of winter manages to take me by surprise, evoking the same kind of childish wonder in my soul that I saw on my children’s faces.
I could hardly wait until later, when I was finally able to slip on my skis and go out into it. I glided over the unbroken surface, daring to cut a crisp twin track through the artful riffles of drifting snow. The evening star winked at me in the lavender sky above the snowy pines, and the lake, still unfrozen, glimmered pale gold and pink—and silently I breathed thanks for the glory of a new season.
And for something else, too, because there were two things to be thankful for, really. The pure clean snow, yes—but, even more, how it symbolized the state of my heart.
“…though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are red like crimson, they shall become like wool.“ (Isaiah 1:18)
Once upon a time, my heart was stained with sin, glaring crimson as the most brilliant maples of autumn—but then came the day I gave it all to Christ, and the transformation was just as sudden and wonderful as this overnight advent of winter.
Rejoicing Hills 
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