I admit to having some difficulty with this one, with pandemic 2.0 raging, Mom in a nursing home (with its occasional lock-downs), empty store fronts, political upheaval, and way too many Zoom funerals.
These last 12 months have been like living in a bad sci fi movie with no remote to change the channel.
As I look out my window at a landscape covered in fresh white snow, I can’t help but notice its beauty: each flake a miniature masterpiece, complex and unique.
Each barren tree a treasure trove of leaves and flowers just waiting for spring to burst forth.
People are treasures too: the friend who texted to check on me; the cousin who was glad to get my call - “keep calling” he said, and I will;
Zoom meetings where everyone gets a little silly; my son’s smile;
and the demon cat who breaks everything, then looks at me so sweet and adorable.
All of these are signs of God presence, and assure me that, even on the darkest days, there is grace, there is joy, there is love, and where these things abide,
there is always hope.