The breath of God produces ice, and the broad waters become frozen.
It snowed again, the deepest snow we’ve had so far this year. We watched it from our kitchen window, watched it fall like rain, wet and heavy. We could see the trees bending beneath the weight of it – branches curving away from the trunk toward the ground – great glistening hoops of black and white.
News stations were full of broadcasts about the winter storm, about the winter weather that arrived after spring. Newscasters pointed their way through maps that showed its size that showed the way it stretched and swirled across the land. Predictions of depth and breadth transformed to pink and white bands on the screen. Photos sent by viewers paraded. Cameras rolled down highways and byways to record the roads, the drives, the get-arounds.
My phone buzzed. It was a text photo. From my sister in Illinois. A good six-inches of snow was perched on the wrought iron rails of her back deck. At least a foot lay over the patio table. It was a muted-gray world. Like mine. From 860 miles away – we were sharing the same storm.
It’s been a few years since my husband was deployed. He was literally half a world away. But every day, we managed to contact each other – by email, Skype video, or Skype instant message (technology is an amazing thing…). Every day, he told me he loved me. Every day, I told him I loved him. Beside the physical distance, our messages were often separated by distance in hours. His day started eight and nine hours before mine. One day, he wrote something that I will never forget. He told me that I would see his sun…. Half a world away and we were sharing the sun – It was like he’d given me a gift. He’d given me the gift of being near, of feeling his presence throughout the day, as long as the sun was in the sky… And then the moon. And the stars. In that moment, I realized that we weren’t so much separated as joined. Joined by the things we shared. What a precious gift.
Today, the snow is mostly melted where I live. I am tired of the snow. I am tired of the cold. I crave the warm-weather days of spring and summer. I look forward to trees with leaves, and green grass, and flowers. I love flowers. But, if snow and rain is what we get, it’s ok. We shared – my sister and me. The breath of God fell on us both – at the same time. It felt like family.
Thank you, God, for common experiences. Thank you for family.