they say “It’s been 23 days since 2015: in which Grace finds me was published.”
and I say it’s been some great 23 days. they’ve been so full and so rich.
and then the white flakes start falling. and they start piling one on another inches and inches deep.
and then the magic happens.
I can’t stop the snow. I can’t tell it where to land. I can shovel narrow pathways through waist high drifts, just to turn around and see it being filled again by the swirling white stuff.
the flakes keep dancing in the wind. they fall and cling to my hair.
and I just pray, “God, I hope You know what You’re doing.”
see, the last 23 days have been great and all, but I’m still staring into the unknown. still out of control of so much. still like, “God, You need to get this right,” and still confused and worried and maybe a bit angry when He doesn’t.
because I know where the snow is supposed to fall.
after pummeling Job with questions too great for him to answer God says, “’Shall a faultfinder contend with the Almighty? He who argues with God, let him answer it,’” (Job 40:2, ESV) and then, “‘Will you even put me in the wrong? Will you condemn me that you may be in the right?'” (Job 40:8, ESV)
what could Job say to that? what can I say to that?
questions can pummel me tonight. unknowns can pile waist high. but, God, let this be where I land … “‘I had heard of you by the hearing of the ear, but now my eye sees you; therefore I despise myself, and repent in dust and ashes,'” (Job 42:5,6, ESV)
no, no, don’t give me those excuses. this is where I need to be. put in my place. and no longer fighting God for His.
after the snow stops, the figurative flakes fall steady onward. and, ever faithful, my God tells them where to land.