Nothing Changed, but Everything Changed

This past week, Oklahoma was blanketed in snow. Often, when we get snow, it is mixed with sleet and becomes a huge, icy mess. But this snowfall was serene, with giant flakes falling slowly to the ground. It was picturesque as it fell for hours, leaving us with more than six inches of snow in our yard.

As a kid, I would experience sheer joy when it would snow. In Vermont, nothing shut down when it snowed, but it was so fun to get outside and play. We would build snow forts and have snowball fights. We would go tobogganing and ice skating. We would spend hours, days, bundled up in snow gear without a care in the world.

I will never forget our first winter in Oklahoma. I was in 4th grade and woke up to several inches of snow. It was picture day at school, so I put on my favorite sweater. My dad shoveled the driveway and then he drove me to school. When we arrived, there were no cars or people. My dad suggested I run up to the building and see if there was a note on the door explaining why no one was there.

There wasn’t.

We drove home, and my mom called a new friend to find out why the school was closed. We quickly learned that when it snows in Oklahoma, things shut down. After that, I remember each time it snowed the delight of watching the school closings pop up on the news and waiting, hoping, to see my school listed, too.

When my kids were little, they’d get that same wide-eyed delight when the snowflakes started to fall. I’d bundle them up, and they’d play for hours. Their days were filled with snowmen, snowball fights, and snow ice cream. Then they’d come in and leave a pile of coats, hats, mittens, wet clothes, and towels. They’d be cold and want cocoa and something warm to eat.

Being the parent on a snow day isn’t quite as much fun as being the kid. Over the years, I feel like I’ve lost some of the joy and wonder of a snow day, having to think instead about transportation and extra messes.

And yet, when it snowed last week, I felt like a child captivated by the wonder of snowflakes. As the sun set, I noticed how bright the world looked, as the moon and street lights reflected off the snowy surfaces. I stepped outside in the early morning and marveled at how much snow had fallen during the night. The morning was quiet. People were home, and there were few car tracks on the road.

I noticed the bunny tracks, the geese flying to warmer climates, and the birds chirping as they searched for food. The trees glistened, and the world felt magical and peaceful.

My 17-year-old and I were talking about the snow. I asked him if he wanted to play in it. He said no, he’d rather not disturb it. He wanted to savor its beauty before it was gone. Later, he commented, “When it snows, everything is the same, but it all looks different.”

It’s so true. Nothing changed, but everything changed. 

His statement made me think of a liturgy from Every Moment Holy, which I want to share with you today.

A Liturgy for the First Snow
Douglas McKelvey

O Christ, King of Snow, 
we bless you for bidding this blanket 
of white to cover us in holy hush,
that our hearts might be quieted
at the sight, that we might sense
the emptiness of canvas
over which your Spirit broods, 
and upon which you would
     create
     and recreate
our hearts in the image of the one
whose word first spoke snow into existence.

Amen. 

 
~  Melissa