Winter is a time for just
God and me. When others complain of the snow, God reminds me that he made the snow just for
me:
Pure.
White.
Innocence.
Rebirth.
The silence of a cold winter day - the silence is for me, one who hates noise.
The blowing wind is God's proclamation that He loves me; I can feel it down to my
Hair billowing, down to my
Bones. It sends
Chills up my spine.
Do You remember when I was 10 years old and I took my
Hat off in the wind just so I could feel you, and I lay in Your
Snow arms for hours, listening to the
Deer rustling through the dead trees?
The clouds turned silver as the sun sank in the hazy sky, but still I couldn't go inside; didn't want to end
Our time.
Even now, when the slush melts to puddles and the air begins to feel warm, I find I can't wait for
Snow again.
Nov 19, 2014
Nov 19, 2014 at 11:38 PM UTC
Winter is a time for just
God and me. When others complain of the snow, God reminds me that he made the snow just for
me:
Pure.
White.
Innocence.
Rebirth.
The silence of a cold winter day - the silence is for me, one who hates noise.
The blowing wind is God's proclamation that He loves me; I can feel it down to my
Hair billowing, down to my
Bones. It sends
Chills up my spine.
Do You remember when I was 10 years old and I took my
Hat off in the wind just so I could feel you, and I lay in Your
Snow arms for hours, listening to the
Deer rustling through the dead trees?
The clouds turned silver as the sun sank in the hazy sky, but still I couldn't go inside; didn't want to end
Our time.
Even now, when the slush melts to puddles and the air begins to feel warm, I find I can't wait for
Snow again.
