We awoke this morning to four inches of particularly pristine snow. It rained yesterday afternoon and evening, so the air had already been washed clean, and then by midnight the snow was coming down — not the slushy stuff, either. This was perfect sledding snow. It wasn’t high mountain powder, mind you, but it was close. The spruce in back was draped in it, and the maples and honey locusts with their bare branches were perfect winter sculptures in wood and snow. Then, around 9:30 am, the sun broke through the clouds and everything shone.
There’s something wonderful about beginning a new year with a visible reminder of Isaiah’s messianic promise:
Isa. 1:18 Come now, and let us reason together, saith the LORD: though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool.
I don’t need a parade, or a football game today. I’ve had a better show, with far more meaning in it. Whether or not you believe in the doctrines of repentance and atonement, white still symbolizes purity, and the New Year still holds forth the promise of doing things better this time around.
The footprints in the snow symbolize nothing. Those are evidence that my children know good sledding when they see it. The landscaped “hill” in my back yard is only about 4 feet high, but to hear the whooping and hollering it must have seemed like the Pass of Caradhras. Complete with little snow-covered hobbitses.