The first snow has fallen, quiet upon the mountain. It always surprises me when winter falls. Fall is so bustling with activity and newness, work and routines, gathering in, often in the rush to finish before the frosts of winter. Suddenly, it falls, always unexpected and almost like a thief. Things stop, frozen in place. The turning colors of the leaves, encased in ice, paused.
It's a hard stop. A deep breath. And an acknowledgment that the seasons are turning in their endless cycle since the beginning of time. This time, the snow fell when I, too, stood paused. I was on a retreat. A quiet respite from the loud bustle of my kid filled days. Tuned in to nature, to His wonders. To the simple delights of a crackling fire in a wood stove, a good book. Good company, friends to knit with, friends to encourage. Friends to sharpen me in my walk as believer, wife, mother, friend. It's the peace of these times, the peace of the freshly fallen snow, that I carry with me into the difficult moments. It is so important to refuel, refresh, renew.
It's been difficult lately. Just so much of normal life, and then other things besides. Dealing with the grief and loss I have experienced this year, the things that have occured. And standing on the mountain, watching the snow fall, I felt like I was letting it go. I would not have changed for one minute what has happened this year because it has refined me and made me stronger. I cannot help but hope. And breathe.