fire and snowflake

We are still waiting for snow.

We’ve seen flurries now and again, but the inches we’ve been promised have yet to materialize.

This sixty-degree day is mocking my hope. It’s hard to believe in snow when the sun is this warm. I’ve decided it will be easier if I stop thinking about it. If I stop hoping.

If snow will come when snow will come then what is the point of anticipation? What is the point of hopeful watching? If the end result will be the same (because snow will come when snow will come), then why not pass the time thinking of other things? Why not try to forget that I have new sleds hidden in the basement?

And yet, because this waiting for snow corresponds with Advent, I can’t quite accept that waiting is pointless. I wonder if our waiting does something. Could the end be different not simply because time has passed but because we have waited and watched with heavy, hopeful hearts?

It hurts to wait. Especially when we do not know how long our wait will last. When we have no idea when the end will come.

How long, Lord, how long?

And, of course, I’m writing about more than snow. I’m writing about snow, and spring, and babies, and degrees, and jobs, and weddings, and healing, and hope and peace and love.

How long, Lord, how long?

Waiting is like wind. It appears to be just nothing, but it can do so much. I don’t mean that it teaches us some lesson, though, I suppose that is sometimes true. I mean, rather, that the waiting itself shapes us, changes us, makes us ready in some hard to grasp way.

Snow is snow, but snow we have waited for …

Snow we have longed for …

Snow we have watched for … it is what snow was always meant to be. It is more itself because we have changed.

We now have eyes to see.

 

What does Advent look like to you? Click here for the Advent flickr group hosted by our own photographer, Kelli Campbell.

Want to keep up with each post this Advent? Find There is a River on facebook here. You can subscribe or sign up to receive each post by email here.

 

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