Baby, it's cold outside!
The windchill is -26. 
​Seriously.
I love the windchill.  It's not just the temperature; it's how you FEEL outside.  That can actually be measured.
My husband disagrees.  He says "Just the facts.  What's the real temperature outside?"
"But honey, scientists can actually measure how you FEEL outside."  Doesn't that validate that Feels are for Reals? 
I think it does.  
Thank you, meteorologists.
So, this is how I feel tonight.  
I'm looking for something beautiful about minus 26 windchill...
It's dark and it's cold. It's so darn cold it can kill you.
So, I did the logical thing, and filled up a water balloon, and tossed it outside in the snow.  
I didn't get the typical or the expected summery water balloon experience.  But sometimes, the unexpected turns out to be a joy, too.  When the water balloon froze, there was a small hollow spot left  inside.  

It's perfect for a candle.

So here I am, enjoying the beauty of fire inside of ice.  It's just an imperfect, round orb of ice, frozen solid by it's harsh environment.  And yet, because of its hollowness or brokenness, the candle light can be placed inside.  
That light inside the ice is more powerful than all the darkness of this winter forest. It melts away the fear of the unknown and unseen. 

I'm having an existential crisis of the best kind here, where suddenly it all makes sense outside here in the cold.  I don't have to be anything but a broken and cold ice chunk, as long as I have God's love inside.   That is enough.  Enough to change anything.

God's light is enough to melt any darkness and fear. 

​

Oh my gosh.  
New year.  We need you.

It's 2022.  

Mask:  check.
Double mask: check.
Protective eye gear:  check.

No, I'm not headed on an airplane. 

Helmet: check.

No, not headed to the grocery store.  Or school.
​

It's 2022 and I'm sharing some joy in the form of a recent ski shot.  

For the record, I am posting only silent video.  On all the rest of the shots, I was laughing and giggling maniacally as I drifted down the slope, phone in hand.  Trying to capture the bliss and thrill of hurtling down a very small mountain at night in below zero temperatures.  

God's creation is so incredibly joyful, exciting, mysterious and beautiful!  
And there is so much adrenaline to be had!

A young snowboarder swooshed past, shaking his head.  
"Sheesh, Lady.  Put the phone away."

I think I will.  

Now that you've had your laugh of the day,
Go out and enjoy the wild ride that 2022 may bring your way. 

​Phillippians 4:13!

Did you ever watch ice melt on a river?

​As it recedes, sometimes you can discover crystals that have been hidden, compressed deep within the ice.

I feel like our problems and suffering are the same as this ice;  they are just a heavy burden that we carry, they weigh us down and paralyze us for a time.  

But when Spring comes round again, as it always does, sometimes we catch a glimpse of the great value of our troubles.  Even the beauty of our burdens. 

After all, the ice feeds the river.  

​Ice is a source of its strength.

Early Sunday morning, before the crowds of kids woke up, I went for a walk.  Before French toast and dirty dishes and washing kids' hair before church...before wardrobe checks to make sure no one still has their pajamas on under their coat (yes this has happened)...before checking fingernails for mud (Someone always manages to pass me by on this)... Before the frenzy of the day, I went for a walk.   

And I found this.

In the Mud.  Just frozen mud.

I like mud.  It reminds me of clay and sculpting and big messes with creative children and I love that.  

It also reminds me of mud puddle stomping in the half-frozen springtime with my friend Joy.  We each had a tall pair of rubber boots, perfect for stomping through frigid, crystallized mud lakes down the hill from her house.  But my boots had leaky zippers on the sides.  So we shared our boots;  each taking one waterproof boot, and pushing our stockinged feet into two long plastic bread bags, then into the leaky boots, then into an old five-gallon bucket.  We'd wrap an arm around each other and three-legged race it through puddles and ponds, cold, splashing, wet, and gloriously happy.   

We always fell.  

Our moms never complained about the mess. 

This Sunday morning, when I found these crystal jewels of frozen snowflakes in the mud, I smiled.    It was just a muddy, dirt road.  That's all.  But that's life.  We're all stuck in it together, muddy fingernails, leaky boots, and all.  Glorious, messy life.
 
I hope you can find the crystal jewels of perfection in your muddy life today.  And if you have leaky boots,  I hope you have a friend with a five gallon bucket.  

“I” am the only difference between Running and Ruining my life.  


I can run it.


I can ruin it.


I.

I cannot get Robert Frost's poem out of my mind today.  

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,   
But I have promises to keep,   
And miles to go before I sleep,   
And miles to go before I sleep.

I did go miles.  And miles.  My feet were frozen, my hands numb.  But the woods were silent as a whisper, soft flakes floated down from the silver sky.  They settled on my camera lens, melted into blurry spots on each picture I took.  

The snowstorm was breathtaking.    

Yesterday, during a very foggy walk, I noticed a weed.  I judged it to be nothing but a dried up old weed on the side of the road.  It was not beautiful, it was not unique, it was not wanted by anyone.  Just an old weed, that's all.  Not even worth noticing.

But last night, God, in his mercy, decided that old weed was worthy. So when the misty fog of heaven came down, the old and the dead became transformed.  

Beautiful.  

In fact, an entire field of weeds was transformed in the dark, crystallized in glorious perfection.  Together, the weeds reflected the pure light of the sun.  It was dazzling.

It doesn't matter what people might have said or thought or how they may have judged this weed yesterday.  Because today, God's mercy extends to the lowliest.

And mercy triumphs over judgement.

In the darkest of nights, the stars are most magnificent.

Race out the door, start the car, crank the heat, scrape the windows.

​Rush off to your busy day.

But in your haste to scrape the windows and get away,  Slow Down...
​  
You might miss the small things.  

And that is a lovely thing to be able to say!

A moment of (cold) peace...  I stood in a frozen marsh in January to give you this picture.  It was very gratifying watching the little fluffs of cattail flutter in the wind.   If I hadn't been determined to find something lovely for you, I would have missed it.  Thanks for a beautiful start to my day.

Just in case you missed the sunrise today:  Here it is through my frosty windowpane.

This is what happens when the air is so cold that water vaporizes.
We boil pots of water...

head outside...

And toss the water up in the air.  

There ya go:

We make our own clouds.  Our own snowflakes.  And our own ice drops.
​We are that cool.