White-Knuckle Driving

*Sigh* I made it home without loss of limb or vehicle. Driving in winter is anything BUT calming. Case in point, it took me around 30 minutes to recover from nearly sliding into a fellow driver today (who was, to my horror, on a cell phone. Talking on a cell phone while driving should be cause for arrest, in my opinion). I, admittedly, allowed the anxiety and anger to course through my veins. And so, in my humble abode, I type to calm my nerves. Sadly, my knuckles have maintained their pallid appearance in spite of the moist, warm air I exhale upon them. I'm cold. This is sounding like the complaint of an austere ice sculpture. That's not about to ease my tension. Instead, I wish to share with you my awe of the wet, white wonder that is snow (awesome alliteration...hey, I did it again!).

Coming home late one night, I tiptoed across the ice to the porch. Turning, respiration ceased, having caught in my throat. Before my eye was a scene I'll never forget. It began with radiance: the beams from the streetlight, the glare from the porch bulb, the subtle glow from the neighbor’s window. The rays of luminous energy cascaded upon the newly fallen snow. Due to refracted light, the frozen crystals assumed the appearance of diamonds. A sea of crystallized carbon dazzled my eyes leading me to believe I'd entered a winter wonderland. I wanted to capture this vision of purity, to never let the stain of mud tarnish its reflective glory. In my mind it stays, forever a reminder of the beauty Heavenly Father created.

Another favorite part of winter is the tranquility. In the late evening, stepping onto my frequented porch, I listen. Just listen. The silence, almost deafening, fills me with a gentle peace. I long to share the moment with a special someone. At my feet, soft stirring interrupts my reverie. The neighbor's cat, entwining around my legs, comes to rest upon my lower extremities. Not necessarily the company I desire, but I take what I can get. Closing my eyes, I listen to nothing, allowing my thoughts to stray. These are cherished times when heaven seems just within reach. Inevitably, something interrupts the serenity forcing me to return to the world. I leave the steps hoping to someday share this glimpse of perfection with someone, someone who appreciates silence in all its repose.