Taking back the sacred

Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy [set apart].
Six days shall you labor, and do your work,
but the seventh day is a Sabbath dedicated to the Lord your God.
Exodus 20:9-10


We hustle and bustle at Christmastime, and I read others lament it but don't feel the same. I am snug in my house, shopping online with my fingers and eyes instead of walking through stores, my driver's license unused in my purse for a month now. Every year, a season of no driving reminds me that I depend on others and God and not just my strong two legs and the arms strong for my labor (Proverbs 31:17).

But maybe God hears all of our cries, and sometimes takes back the sacred with a display of power that stalls every earthly plan and maroons people to sit silent for a whole 24 hours. A whole day set apart to marvel at the works of His hands.


Have you entered the storehouses of snow
or seen the storehouses of hail,
which I reserve for times of trouble,
for the day of war and battle?
~Job 38:22-23~


We live in the land of snow and ice, six months of winter clothes and cold nights, and the buzz of the furnace constantly humming in the background. Has it ever occurred to you, wherever you are reading from today, that God could literally bury us in snow? The snow here is up to my hips, and it takes great effort to even walk around the exterior of my home, checking vents to make sure carbon monoxide doesn't build up inside and poison us in our sleep.



And this wasn't even a real "blizzard". Visibility was good the entire time, the wind fairly calm. Yet 16-24" of the white stuff are being reported after a 12 hour snowfall. What would happen if the storehouses really let loose?

The view back to the house from the garage, past 4-5 ft of drift.


We woke this morning to malls, businesses, even churches closed for the day. A Sunday snowbound. Traffic at a standstill. No one coming or going.




Play things buried by half in the yard. An alien landscape transformed overnight. We live in a powdered sugar field, the wind whipping sheets of flakes up off the hillocks, and a few moments of glittering snowglobe surrounding our windows and bringing belly laughs up spontaneously from the children.





You can't even see the road. Until the plows come, we live completely isolated. Isolated from noise, hustle, bustle, delivery trucks, mailman. If we had a sleigh, we could make it out - except that it is a brisk minus 35 degrees with the windchill this morning.

Shovels lie useless to moms & kids marooned at home without a man to help.

Miraculous to think that with this blanket, He waters the earth in spring. Protects the trees and plant roots with an insulating blanket against the cold wind and air all winter long.

Today, I am hushed and thankful for Jesus who "came to earth to taste our sadness, He whose glories knew no end. By His life He brings us gladness, our Redeemer, Shepherd, Friend." (from the original 4 verses of "Come, Thou Long Expected Jesus" penned by Charles Wesley in 1744; listen to an abbreviated but beautiful choral version here)