Waiting for the Storm

The wind is calm, permitting the softly falling snow
to reach the bosom of mother earth,
thickly veiled in purest white.
Every twig, every shriveled leaf, every pine needle
becomes a perch for snowflakes,
fashioned by the very Breath of God
to fall with sweet abandon just beyond this warm room
where Peka and Boo sleep in the near silence,
broken only by ticking clock and the heater’s gentle whir.
I rejoice in the peace–and breathe a heartfelt thank you
for days that begin and end with You.
The snowplow rumbles by, indication of the coming storm
that has been in the forecast for days.
I am reminded that few of the storms of this life
come with a forecast but almost always
descend upon us with fury’s speed; and
with an unexpected blast that chills our very soul
and leaves us exposed, we are left
fighting for our very lives with no thought of anything
save survival.
I breathe in the relief that it was He who fashioned me
in the womb of a mother I have never known
only to place me in the arms of another,
who led me to the One who loves me like no other.
Because I have found my real home in Him,
there is no consternation when the blizzards of this life
threaten–or descend.
I am, instead, secure in the warmth of His love,
listening for the still, small Voice within to say,
“This is the way, walk ye in it.”