I can see it right away, on day one of the New Year. My plans and goals are still hanging on the tree. I know I’m not going to make them happen today, or even tomorrow.
It’s a week later now, and I’m no closer, hanging onto the laziness of the holiday as if it’s my one last day left of such days for the rest of my life. Honestly, it’s not, that I’m aware of. But the flesh is strong, and I’m not fighting.
I’m not beating myself up, though. We’re going through a mighty brutal cold spell right now, and keeping warm and safe are the goals of the day. I’ve never spent this many days in my pj’s since my babies were born, and that was over 10 years ago. And not even then.
What does this mean?
Maybe it just means grace. God’s grace, touching me in this little way, a little respite of rest amidst days of running the race. I’m embracing it.
I watch the snow swirling in the wind, creating a misty veil of sparkly flakes. Eventually the wind calms down, too, takes its own rest, and the blowing snow disappears into the rest of the landscape.
Where are the birds? Remarkably absent on the most bitter days, they know when to rest and stay put.
It’s built into us as well, I recognize. Created uniquely with God’s breath, we’re designed differently from all other creatures God made. He made us in the image of Himself. We have the very breath of God living in us.
If I stop to listen, see beyond the silence of the snow, I’ll hear and know when His grace calls me to a place of rest.
This grace, it’s a peace.
Grace. Rest. Peace. Maybe it’s how I was to begin the year, after all.
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