Spring snow is something that always comes, yet always surprises, somehow. After a long winter, once things have begun to melt, it seems that the time for snow is done for a while. It always comes in earnest, though, surprising us with white mornings and deeper mud than the day before. It can seem like a step backward.
I try to enjoy the weather we have while we’re having it, so today I visited the river. The water was so silent, all I could hear was the bow breaking the water and little splashes of snowflakes on the surface.
Tonight I went out into the dark and the snow. It was so still, it was as though I could hear every single flake land on each individual pine needle. All of those snowflakes, all of those branches. An uncountable number, yet all falling to just the branch they were meant to. I could feel that God knew all of them.
As He knows me.