OUTSIDE OF HOLY CONSTRUCTION WALLS

I pulled back my curtains to a neon white snow tiptoeing into a mid December day. Almost as if it was embarrassed it had taken so long to get here, worried that we had all forgotten it was winter. My hand up against the cold glass of the window, I watched as it tickled the ground with its gentle landing. Sprawling across the cold bare cement, the browned grass, the shivering trees, blanketing them in winter, tucking them in. I could almost hear it saying, go, rest, I’ll cover you up for a few months.

I could hear it telling me the same.

There is a tangible beauty in tucking away, in covering up. Much like a construction site bordered by tall fences and plastic walls, no one knows what’s going on inside, but they know that when the fences are torn down and the plastic walls folded up, there will be something to marvel at, something solid and standing. No construction worker likes to be nagged about what’s being built inside, they just want to build.

 

And so, I will not nag God about what’s being built inside of me. I will not tug at the plastic walls, I will not steal His tools or question His floor plans.

Instead, I will lay still, like the ground being tickled by snow, and I will find comfort in being covered up, in standing outside of the construction walls, in awe, eager to see what is happening inside.

I cannot even imagine how lovely it will be, how new, when the snow lifts, when my fears thaw. But here, in winter, I will hold my hands up against the warmth of my body, I will thank the snow for showing up and I will thank myself for doing the same.