The Impossible Whiteness of Winter

imageSitting in a bubble bath the other day, I found myself captivated with the bubbles.  They are irredescent, and looked  sort of like opals, and fresh water pears in their beautiful.  I looked out my window, and the sun was shining off the white of the snow, creating a multitude of diamonds all around.  I was entranced by the beauty of white..the purity of it.

I went to the “grief counsellor” today..ugh…but good.  I’m finding that grief, and counsellor seem to go hand in hand.  It’s hard when they look deep into your eyes, and wait for you to express yourself, talk about your woes, and all you want to do is curl up in a ball of tears.  It is a tiring, but I think, a good shedding if your skin, emptying of your mind.   I think..wait… I’m supposed to try and express what Im feeling? if I know?  She asked me what color I see when I think of Bianca..what??.. I thought.  This feels hokey pokey, but first pink came to mind, because I like pink incidentally…but then…no she is white.  White is pure, perfect. It is the absence of color, but yet it is so inviting to me.  It holds possibilities.  It is untouched, virginal, and it can be so reflective, especially when it includes water, which I also love.  The snow, so cool and lovely, it covers a multitude of sins.  It makes the dark, dank earth lovely with its gentle covering.image

When I open my front door, and stand upon my porch, I love the silence and the quiet that a blanket of snow brings.  I am weird for sure in that I love to shovel snow.  I love to be surrounded by it, make it into big piles, and also the crunchy sound it makes, or the squeaky pitch when it’s really and truly very cold.  People talk about the weather constantly, and seem baffled and confused when it snows here in Colorado…Really I think…why the surprise?  Just look at the summit of the Rockies in July when it’s 90 degrees on the plains, and yes..people that is snow..that is  why it always looks so pretty and inviting when one looks to the west, and sees the mountains.  Snow can be annoying I guess, especially when trying to avoid idiot drivers on the freeway, but it can be so much fun too.  Think of all the wonderful things we participate in after it snows.  We go skiing, snowboarding, go out for a sleigh ride,(the kind drawn by a couple of beautiful horses across a moonlit sky,…)and skating on a frozen lake….it’s the best image.  My Mum’s racing skates hang on my front door, which is just the coolest door display, especially for a Canadian living in America, hockey pride and all  that…Also ice fishing…..and at long last, yes snow angels.   I find it amazing that a human person, like myself, can lay down carefully on the soft stuff, then flap my arms like some crazy bird, and if I’m lucky when I get up..I’m an angel…now if that isn’t an example of a miracle, then I sure don’t know what is…because I ain’t no angel that’s for certain!imageOrdinary images, such as this bicycle leaning against a rough hewn wooden fence suddenly become a piece of art when dabbed with an accent if the white stuff.. Yes I could quite possibly be obsessed… I even love how I’m pretend smoking, when my warm breath makes little snow clouds out of my mouth…pure magic, and less we forget eating snow, and slurping on long and wonderful ice sicles like they were popsicles, being careful NOT to eat the yellow snow.  How about building a snowman, or an ice cave…truly the possibilities are quite endless.


Its a wonder to me how animals stay out in the cold all winter, and just adapt by growing a thicker coat of fur, or by hibernating, or getting frozen in the bottom of the lake…waiting to emerge when the Spring thaw comes.  Right now it is is the winter land…the air seems silent and rather distant.  It is a time to sit by a warm fire, either indoors with s steaming mug of hot coffee, or outdoors by a fire pit, wrapped in a cozy blanket, with the aromatic scent of burning wood.  How I love that scent.  The counsellor informed me that smell is our most powerful of all of our senses.  I hadn’t known that before, but I find it intriguing because scented candles, wood burning fires, the morning aroma of fresh coffee brewing have to be  some of my all time favorites.  Not  to be overshadowed by the wondrous mystery of  my babies fresh and new.  They were just out of the oven and full of promise, of hope…nothing smells better than fresh hope.

There is a wonderful woman who I have known at the grocery store, her name is Lindy.  She has always been very kind and friendly to Bianca and I whenever in the store.  As I was milling about in front searching and wondering if I should purchase a fresh Christmas tree, there she was.  She had shared her story with me before, I love peoples’ stories, and she inquired about my daughter’s passing.  I, with chopped sentences tried to explain her last days, and she responded with “yes..keep going…I understand,” and so I did.  Her eyes grew misty throughout my tale, and she answered with…” I understand, really I do.”  She went on to recall her experience with her beloved daughter, April.  She had passed away in 2007, at 19 years of age from cystic fibrosis, and had suffered a similar fate involving her lungs.  It was still ever fresh in her mind, and we hugged, and wept together, there out in front amongst the lovely scent of fir trees.  We had been drawn together years before, and now were just two Moms brought together in our grief.  Such an appointed meeting, such a gift from my Heavenly Father.  This was unexpected and true….I needed this, and I expect,  so did Lindy.  She was just out on her break enjoying a brief cup of steaming coffee, and there we were…how awesome is our God that he would bring us to one another like this?….I just am stunned, and humbled by his attention to the details of the hurting.  So…so much hurt all around is mind boggling and baffling to even make an ounce of sense of….It is too much, I don’t understand.  However when an opportunity of sharing hearts comes about, there is so much love and knowing of each other that can be given.  For a moment..we are not alone…another person has dared to enter into our broken sphere of loss.


My Dad would  have been 78 years old just recently.  It’s been since 2007 since he has passed.  He was such a wonderful and caring Dad, very loving and supportive.  He enjoyed people and loved being with them like I do.  I am grateful for many things in my life beacause of my Father, and his Godly and loving example of grace and hope breathed into my life.  Such a legacy that He left us.  In this season leading up to Christmas , we remember many of our dear departed loved ones who have been taken from this life into the glorious next one.  We mourn for them deeply, we dream of them, and wait expectedly to see them, and be reunited…never having to say good bye…no more hurt..tears…pain…oh the perfect whiteness, the intense and glorious meeting in the heavens.  We think of the perfect baby Jesus, born in Bethlelem in a broken down, filled with straw manger, the Hope for all mankind, and there He was the King of Kings entering into our humanity so that he could see and feel, cry with us, heal us, and save us from ourselves…long live the King…..we celebrate you..imagep.s…(many of these snow photos are courtesy of the wonderful mountain location home of  my friend Susan Johnson, and her family, and her pretty horses too.)

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