I wish I could share with you all of stillness that’s tangibly present. The heavy quiet that beckons my heart to rest.
Surely we can rest without the gentle whisperings of the snow. It’s simply so much easier to do so when the snow is here to instruct us. Surely we can play – abandoned, red-faced, and laughing – when the ground is not white. Still, something in the glistening, nearly laughing snow, wakes the child we put to bed. So, I’m listening while it is here.
And perhaps, there are whisperings to rest easy or play – to be, and delight – surrounding us always. Perhaps seeking them is part of the mystery and adventure. Perhaps, we should stop. And listen. While it is here.