I *strongly dislike* driving in snowstorms.

The snow hit my windshield like a thousand bursting stars. Semi trucks flew by and rattled the van, momentarily leaving clouds of snow that eliminated any scrap of visibility. And the slipping cars in the ditch… Yuck.

I am always relieved to arrive home safely. As I looked outside from my warm home, I had a change of heart… how lovely the snow looked. A swirling and wild goodness. It fell silently and accumulated like sacred powder. It covered cars, and the kids wrote messages in the snow on the van windshield until further accumulations erased it.

It stuck on trees and coated the earth like a peaceful dream. I felt tucked in and safe, like nothing in the world could break through the calm. The power of something so silent. So small.

Morning came and revealed a different world than the bluster of the night before. Perfect whiteness covered roof tops with gently smoking chimneys. The snow stopped its relentless ambush in the air. It rested peacefully on the earth and the trees. So innocent looking, as if the chaos from the dark night before was never real. The world was now still, and new.

I walked outside to see the once bare tree branches covered in smooth and unruffled wonder. The snow perfectly stuck to each branch, and to itself. It took up residence in the branches without invitation. Some of the branches were so small, yet the snow piled up in its tiny crevices like an impossible feat of science. If someone gave me a handful of snow and said- pile it up on this branch just like this– I could never do it. It seemed to gather and collect with purpose. Quietly, the snow inhabited the space where it landed with perfect contentment and confidence that it was where it was meant to be.

I saw the storm. I felt the storm. But I didn’t realize that during the storm, during the struggle, the thrashing trees in the unforgiving wind, the low visibility, the slippery road, the darkness and uncertainty— a miracle occurred.

The snow landed with purpose and brought meaning to once unwilling and unchanged branches. The trees carried it with grace.They ceased their struggle and embraced the wondrously brilliant, beautiful, and unexpected gift in their arms.

I tenderly approached each branch, in wonder of those little snowflakes that formed masterpieces in the most unusual and unexpected places. The snow brought life where no one else would have predicted it.

The trees were now still and quiet and compliant, yet strong as ever; quietly reconciled with the snow. They chose to continue on in that strong manner that trees always do… grounded and strong and unrelenting. The snow remained an accumulation of quiet chaos, almost purposefully placed. It covered the branches like white linen bandages, a healing grace, a beautiful reminder of remaining steadfast in a storm.

Here lies beauty not just after the storm, but because of the storm. Because of the snow.

“For this light momentary affliction

is preparing for us

an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison” 

2 Corinthians 4:17