Another winter storm is racking the northeast with high winds and heavy snow. Concerned with our safety, the company released us from training early. Most flights to and from Newark have been canceled. Luckily, I made it back to the crashpad just in time to avoid getting stranded by the inclement weather. Before settling into the rocking chair with a missing arm cushion, I drew back the curtains and made myself a hot breakfast. Now satiated, and entranced by the budding storm, I’m finding it difficult to write. These are prime conditions for both, streaming creativity and sleeping. With only one other person here, the apartment is quiet. Tucked into the deepest crevice of the couch, my roommate could easily be mistaken for a crumpled blanket. Strays of orange hair and a messy top bun ornamenting the crown of the cover are the only indicators of her company. I too, am fighting the urge to lose myself in a blanket and watch anything involving Meryl Streep.
Somewhere in the recesses of my uterus, my cramps are producing just enough of that stabbing sensation to keep me awake. A good thing for the sake of productivity I suppose. Three years of being based in Newark and I’m still hopelessly fascinated by the snow. Today, especially. A decaying brick accent wall is home to the only window in the living room. Ordinarily, the view is a mere reflection of our brick apartment building, but today it’s a backdrop to a spectacular show. The diminishing browns and oranges of the brick wall make the snow look 3D. It’s sort of…poetic. I feel like a stranger who’s stumbled into the delivery room of something extraordinary: the sky giving birth to a little peace of heaven.
Meteorologically, this is considered a storm, but it feels like anything else. I never knew snow could dance. Without adherence to any form or technicality, it gracefully moves. Beautifully wild, it flows. Some snowflakes are falling rapidly in a race to the ground, while others take their time, slowly drifting to their destination. Some sections are falling straight down, while others are descending at a slant. Then, there are the snowflakes that are simply riding on the wings of the wind. Some are stuck together and some are traveling alone. Some are falling to the east and some are headed west. Somehow though, regardless of direction or form, they’re all in sync. Each doing their own dance, yet fully aware that they’re part of a grand ensemble.
We’re a lot like snow. Multilayered beings, composed of various facets, all contributing to one single source. Sometimes, we put too much focus on one aspect of our lives. We spotlight the areas that need work or aren’t panning out the way we hoped. I’m learning to give those areas of my life grace. I don’t want to lambast them into a place of hiddenness and shame. I want to be encouraging and provide a positive environment to recalibrate those areas.
When we admire a place blanketed in fresh snow, we don’t analyze its beauty by each particle. Instead, we acknowledge it as one body of snow comprised of many snowflakes. Together, each snowflake creates one breathtaking body of natural art. We are each, a wonderous expression of art formed by our creator. God doesn’t look at our rough edges, jagged lines, and the pieces of us that aren’t quite falling right, with ridicule. If we commit every aspect of our lives into the hands of God and trust him to mold us into something extraordinary, he will. He can transform all of our mess and chaos, into splendid portrayals of his love.