We’re experiencing the first winter storm of the season as snow blows and drifts. Here’s the view outside our front door captured a few hours ago.
I had an appointment to get my hair cut this morning, but cancelled it. I decided that at age 65 I can choose to take a snow day and stay home if I want. When it showed where we lived in western Washington state before we retired, the joke was that only the hardy Canadians showed up in the office. It wasn’t far from the truth. Now, I’m perfectly happy to cancel appointments and stay safe and warm indoors on stormy days like this. In fact, I look forward to the opportunity.
This morning I worked on a Story Circle Network project that’s nearing a deadline. It’s good work that I enjoy doing and I’m excited to see this project to completion. I’ll fill you in on it next week.
I just took a pan of matrimonial squares out of the oven and the house smells heavenly. It almost makes me think I should bake more often. Not likely. On the other hand, I use my mom’s recipe and they are so easy to make. Oatmeal. Dates. Sounds healthy, right? Some folks call them date squares. I don’t know where the name “matrimonial squares” came from, but think it might be a prairie thing. What do you call them?
Now, I’m in the woman cave tapping out this post while Molly sleeps on my legs and the storm rages outside. I’m grateful for many things and burdened by others. That’s the way life goes, isn’t it?
As I get older, I find the hard things are ever-so-slightly less likely to overwhelm. They’re still painful and some seasons are hard to navigate, but by now I’ve weathered enough storms to know they don’t last forever. I do what I can, when I can, where I can, and practice letting go of the rest. Considering the macro view, while other times looking more closely at what’s right in front of me, helps me gain perspective.
A few years ago, photography—looking at flowers close up through the lens of my Canon camera—taught me that there’s a whole world full of magical and mystical things to be seen when I pay attention. The mystery is there whether I look for it or not, and much of how I experience every day is influenced by my remembering (or forgetting) that life itself is wonder-ful and that which is easily seen isn’t the whole picture.
There’s a storm raging, and it’s miserable out there. Just ask my husband, who’s out there in the wind with the snowblower right now. Here inside, it’s cozy and warm and hygge season has commenced. Two people; two perspectives. If I was inclined, I could pull out my camera and snap on my macro lens and shoot images of individual snowflakes that would delight me. I won’t. But I could. Again, two sides of the same coin.
I haven’t quoted my old friend, Frederick Buechner in a while. Remember what he said? “Here is the world. Beautiful and terrible things will happen.” But wait, there’s more.
The grace of God means something like: “Here is your life. You might never have been, but you are, because the party wouldn’t have been complete without you. Here is the world. Beautiful and terrible things will happen. Don’t be afraid. I am with you. Nothing can ever separate us. It’s for you I created the universe. I love you.”
There’s only one catch. Like any other gift, the gift of grace can be yours only if you’ll reach out and take it.
Maybe being able to reach out and take it is a gift too.
My goodness, I’ve rambled in this post but I’ve ended up in a place that seems good to me. Maybe you too?
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