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I’m a summertime gal. Bring on the sun, the heat, the sweat. Let me rock on the porch with a glass of iced tea, sporting a pair of shorts and my Tigers T-shirt, inhaling the scent of petunias.

Or give me springtime, air heavy with the fragrance of lilacs, pregnant with new life, the first robin.

Or even autumn, ablaze with color, hand-plucked apples, the aroma of wood smoke.

But winter? It’s so long. And so cold. And messy.

But today… today is one of those days in which I love winter.

It’s the snow that spills like cotton confetti, swirls gentle, piles downy soft, fluffs underfoot.

It beckons me outside, and I stand in the center of a sacred silence.

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And I can barely breathe for the beauty of it.

I remember that God orders the snow to blanket the earth (Job 37:6), spreads it like fleece (Psalm 147:16). He spreads this comforter before me, and it comforts me.

I think of a friend who suffers and pray for His comfort to surround her.

I tilt my face and let flakes settle on my tongue. Taste and see.

Winter must come before spring.

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Wash me, and I will be whiter than snow . . . Β Open my lips, and my mouth will declare your praise. (Psalm 51)

Even in winter.