Deep Winter Hope

 It is the wee hours of the morning, in the midst of a winter storm. I look out my window and see the swirl of snow sparkling in the glow of our post light.

It looks beautiful in this moment, like crystalline fairy flakes floating down from heaven to cover the ground. I pause to pray and ask: "Is there a lesson in this time of cold and ice, when hope seems lost, in nature and in the world?"

I think of a story I recently read to the children at school about animal hibernation. The illustrations were all of the burrows and tunnels that small animals dig to survive the deep, cold winter. They have storehouses of food and straw to keep themselves warm. Like us, larger creatures, burrowing in our homes, storing up food, bundling in warm clothes and huddling next to our fireplaces. We wait for spring, prayerfully, hopefully anticipating the thawing of ice and the emergence of new life.

My third grandchild was born this past week; a precious, miraculous new life, brought into the world in the dead of winter, a message of hope. I look into her tiny, beautiful face and touch her delicate little hands, marveling at the wonder of it all. Psalm 139 comes to mind: "For you formed my inward parts; you covered me in my mother's womb. I will praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made..."

This "dark night of the soul" that is deep wintertime, is brightened by the affirmations of life all around: the birth of a baby; a bright red cardinal on a snowy branch; the warmth and kindness of others; the warm glow of the Spirit in our hearts.