December blew in today to make the last few leaves of autumn spin around in circles. Just in time. For the last few days of November had seemed like August. Its funny how things change so fast here in Rochester, by the big lake with its stange winds.
A few weeks ago it rained for days and driving was like being on a boat. Streets were rivers and intersections were rapids. I grew sea sick of soggy socks and wondered if I had in fact moved to the city of Seatle, not Rochester. Then one afternoon the the clouds disappeared like marshmellows in hot chocolate and the sun shown as if for the first time. It all happened so quickly. For days the city had been like an untouched coloring book and I had walked in its pages of black and white, feeling grey. When suddenly a few strokes of orangish red appeared in the space above me. Then pink. Then blue. A blue I had never seen, or more likely, forgetten. Other hues appeared and as I looked all around me, I blinked my eyes in wonder as the blank spaces where given meaning. Puddles became mirrors reflecting greens, blues, browns, and yellows. Buildings seemed to shine and people, glow, as they flooded the streets to watch the sky being colored, to watch God play with his crayons.
It was a moment of creation, or recreation. Things that had not been, became.
Winter is coming and this year I want to think of it's grey as God outlining a new page of his coloring book, his story that we are in, so as to dazzle us with colors in spring, to recreate earth again so we don't forget that He made this place and us.
"And us." This is easy for me to forget. My life for a moment has appeared to be a blank page. I've been wondering at its meaning, struggling with its greatness (as I mentioned before). This is my winter season and for reasons only the snow maker knows, I need it. And I accept it for that reason. And in the mean time, while I wait for spring, I am warmed with the colors of others.
