the snowy tea party... and then some

subtitled: the driveway, the dog and the deck. 
{a three part story -- because life is what happens outside the picture frame}.

it was the perfect day ---
no school.
new snow.
and warmer temps!

we had been waiting for EXACTLY THIS. and monday, it arrived.

diana and i, mama-partners in photography crime, made our plan.

today was the day.

we would re-create the vision diana had shared with me a month or so ago. we would set up and shoot a "snowy tea party" scene with our youngest girls, bella and emme.  yes, yes we would!

over the weekend i had painted the table and chairs ... taking them from plain, old oak to something a little shabbier and chicer ... we had assembled the outfits and "props" and by late monday morning ... we were ready.

game on!

the girls were giddy (though not as giddy as their mamas) because what 5 or 6 year old doesn't want a tea party in the snow?

our picture-plan was perfectly on course -- or so it seemed.

after "checking lighting" (high-tech photographer's term) all over the yard, diana finally settled on the low part of our driveway -- the part we "share" with our neighbors. and that's where the fun began.

scene #1 -- the driveway.

we had no sooner set up this magical scene (smack dab in the middle of the "shared" space) when my neighbor came up the long drive in his snowblowing tractor. (darn! wish we had thought to photograph him). he had plans to continue on toward his house ... except for the roadblock of two chinese girls wearing flowers in their hair and fur wraps, holding tea cups ...

the tractor came to a halt.

i began to think about what i could say ...

offer him a cup of "snow" tea?

a chance to pose in the picture?

a glossy 8 x 10?

it's not every day a man just trying to clear snow from his driveway stumbles upon a scene such as this.

i've had an inkling our sweet next door neighbors think us a bit "out there" ... and i was pretty sure this wasn't going to help convince him otherwise.

leaving the tea party scene, i approached him and his tractor and did my best to explain our "vision." i'm not 100% he was following, but he kind of nodded slowly trying to take in my words. regardless of what he thought, we struck a deal. he kindly agreed to wait a few extra minutes before continuing up the drive.

we hurried. diana snapped as many pictures as she could ... the girls giggled and pretended and played along. they filled their cups with snow and rolled their eyes at their mothers. it was all so delightful for them ... for us... (not so sure about the neighbor).

finally, diana declared she had taken enough.

and scene one came to a close.

we packed up our belongings and trudged back toward the house. with tea cups and table and two little girls out of the way, my neighbor started his tractor and happily continued to plow waving and smiling at us as he passed.

scene #2 -- the dog.

we knew this was going to take a little more work.
and, i assure you, it did.

a pocket full of dog treats, a slice of turkey and a whole lot of: "sit minne, stay minne, no minne, yes minne, come minne!"

what this picture doesn't show is the crazy woman (me) off to the side hopping up and down and yelling wild encouragement at my big beast and tiny daughter.

diana, the ultimate professional, just kept snapping picture after picture after picture.

we were both determined.

{i could only hope the neighbor was too busy plowing to pay us much attention}.

finally diana stood up and declared she was sure she had "something."

it only took 17 dog treats, a broken tea cup, one bruised knee and a gazillion clicks of the camera --- but it was worth it!

as funny as all that was -- or at least as funny as it was to us (i suppose it was one of those classic "you-had-to-be-there" kind of moments) -- the best part was what my other older kids (the ones NOT in the tea party photo shoot) showed me later in the day.

scene #3 -- the deck

while we were out in the front yard recreating a piece of narnia ... my other kids and alex (emily's boyfriend and tyler's friend) were doing snow stunts off the deck ... and, of course, filming themselves.

(click below)
kids' youtube video "jump!"

immediately i knew i'd have to share this. i couldn't very well post all those darling pictures of the surreal "snowy tea party" and not show you the "other part" of the life we lead. i'd hate to mislead you in thinking our life is only about dreamy pink flowers, tea cups and magical photos. oh, people, no, no, no. not the case at all!

remember, there's always more to the story than the pretty picture.

just like in life, there's usually a story of something a little more gritty or raw or real (or COMPLETELY DANGEROUS) taking place in what isn't captured. we might catch a pristine moment in perfect snow and perfect light ... but chances are we also have a kid or two diving off the deck and filming snow stunts.

let the pretty pictures inspire or encourage or bless you ... but don't let them mislead you. we all know, real life is lived way beyond the lens ... and it typically doesn't include pink flowers and china tea cups.

but, by all means, keep taking lots of pictures! you'll never, ever regret it.  xoxo

love my minne!

photo credits: diana rouse
video credit: alex reimer

ice-out

apparently the mcnatts moved to minnesota just in time to take part in weather history.  DNR officials are declaring this winter one of the longest ever. up in these parts, winter is kind of measured by the thawing of water -- i suppose that's fitting for the state of 10,000 lakes. each year when spring hits and lake minnetonka begins to thaw there's one specific date chosen which declares "ice-out!"  ice-out is determined when the first boat can navigate the thawing lake waters without encountering ice.   in past years, ice-out has occurred somewhere in middle to late march.  well, we passed that date up a month ago, and we are now closing on the end of april, there is little evidence that we are still anywhere near the great ice-out.  truth be told, we are still very much "ice-in." only a couple of times in all of history has lake minnetonka been ice covered in the merry month of may.  but this year, it is looking very likely.  1965 was the last year to have an ice-out in may. i wasn't even born in 1965...

what a foot of snow looks like in april!

and here we are in the final week of april, still looking at an enormous amount of snow and a frozen lake behind our house. just last week we had a winter storm hit which dumped 14 inches of snow in one night.  school was delayed the next morning.  minnesota never delays or cancels anything due to weather, that alone tells you how incredible the storm.  this is  far from normal -- even for minnesota.  how do i know this?  because everyone (and i do mean everyone) makes a point to tell us.  anyone who hears this is our first winter is quick to explain how abnormal this is...like they are certain we've already started packing to return south.  it's actually kind of funny, except that it's not.  no one is laughing very much about the weather in minnesota.  even our pastor started his sermon this past sunday saying, "it's no longer funny."  so here we are in our strange month of spring where temperatures continue to plummet low and snow piles continue to loom high. and the lake out back...well, that's a toss up between antarctica and alaska. as i mentioned in my last post, there is a small slice of open water running along the shoreline now, but that's it.  when my friend, leslie, first sent me a link to the "ice-out" stuff on lake minnetonka, i found it incredibly interesting.  people place bets on the date, they throw parties and celebrate the end of winter when ice-out is finally and officially declared.  because we live in a lake community, it's a big deal out here, especially for those who make their livelihood on the lake.   everyone is just itching to go.  boats are being primed and cleaned and ready to hit water. no one wants to think about how last year at this time, docks and boats were well into the water and spring was in full swing. this year...not a chance. tomorrow's forecast:  6 to 10 inches of snow!  actually as i sit here typing...guess what it's doing outside...yep.

cbs reporter, colin smith, contributed the following article last week: 
Lake Minnetonka Could Face Historically Late Ice-Out   
"The ice is 20 inches thick in some spots, and with more cold weather in the forecast, some wonder if we could be on our way to a not-so-desirable record.

“I don’t think we’re within days of the ice-out. We may be more within weeks of it,” said Pat Sweeney with the Freshwater Society, the Excelsior group that has tracked dates back to 1855. “It is conceivable that we could still have ice on the lake in May.”     

of course i love the expression "ice-out."  it makes me think not only about the ice-out on the lake, but also the ice that settles sometimes in my heart.  i don't know about you, but i've definitely had that frozen feeling deep inside of me at times.  i've experienced the hardening of my heart when i've been angry, disappointed, betrayed.  it's not a fun place to be.  it creates a cold, numbing callous which seems almost impossible to break through,  impossible to navigate around.   when i am in the middle of an ice-in, it affects all parts of my life.  when the ice is thick, the winter is long.  the woman is bitter.

and just like the many factors which contribute to the thawing of lake minnetonka each spring, there are many things which help in the thawing of our hearts.  we can stand there with arms crossed and head bowed low, telling ourselves we're safer frozen.  we don't want to melt.  melting, as we know, brings vulnerability. melting means we have to do something, feel something, be something. but Jesus never created us to be frozen, He wants nothing more than to navigate through the ice of our souls.  and only He can accomplish this.  all of the little attempts we make on our own, really don't amount to much, do they?  not when we're contending with something so big, so solid, so set. did you read what that piece above said?  even in april, the ice is still 20 inches thick! and that's nothing compared to the hardness of our hearts.  only Jesus can come in and begin the cracking which needs to take place. the cracking of numb to bring in the living of new.  and just like this silly old lake still frozen out back, the timing is His alone.

i watched the boys standing down at the lake last week throwing big stones and rocks out onto the ice.  is that a boy thing or what?  i know they were trying to assist with the breaking up of the massive ice.  two young boys on the shoreline tossing rocks, hardly making a dent...that's kind of like us, isn't it?  we sometimes try to chisel away at the frozen pieces inside of us.  and really we are no more than young boys with a handful of pebbles in our pockets.  but if you're at all like me, we still feel the need to help God out.  because He needs us, right?  the King, the Creator of the universe, the Maker of all ice, He needs us. (not).

even minne wonders... when?

but still we wonder.  the kids and rick and me, we look out at this 14,500 acre lake, and we can't fathom how it will all one day be open water again. we can't imagine how that just happens all of a sudden.  lake minnetonka boasts 125 miles of shoreline alone...it is enormous and  it seems too thick, too massive, too frozen.  from my perch up here at the house, a great thaw seems beyond the realm of possibility.  kind of how we sometimes see our own sin: too awful, too much, too massive...but that's exactly the kind of heart God wants to begin breaking.

and, oh, that breaking...oh, that cracking...it isn't always very pretty.  it doesn't always feel particularly good, in fact, it can actually be somewhat painful.  God uses lots of things in our lives to make us melt.  but what He is doing is melting us right back into Him and into His Spirit.  He tells us to put down our tiny chisels and our small rocks and lean into His warmth.  only His arms of love carry the heat needed to crack our hard hearts. we just can't do it ourselves.

and flowing, wild lives is what He wants for those He loves wildly and deep:

"and I will give you a new heart, and a new spirit I will put within you. and I will remove the heart of stone from your flesh and give you a heart of flesh." ~  ezekiel 26:36

when God removes that heart of stone, that heart full of heavy ice, it is nothing short of amazing.  only He can take out what seems so stubbornly set.  maybe you've never lived on a lake like this, but perhaps you've had the chance to experience God's massaging thaw of your own heart.  when He navigates right through us, the results are remarkable and freeing. they are life-bringing.

when things thaw, life thrives.  and it's a beautiful thing.

“Praise the Lord, O Jerusalem! Praise your God, O Zion!… He gives snow like wool; He scatters the frost like ashes. He casts forth His ice as fragments, Who can stand before His cold? He sends forth His word and melts them He causes His wind to blow and the waters to flow.” ~Psalm 147:12-18

* postscript....
one part that makes this slow thawing lake especially sad is that we aren't here much longer.  i'm afraid with our move date fast approaching, we won't get to witness the great ice-breaking in our backyard.  next week, the mcnatts will be moving from minnetrista to eden prairie.  it's about 25 minutes closer in to our schools and work and church.  this lake living was only temporary--we knew that from the beginning.  this awesome, old house on the lake was already rented for this coming summer and so it's time for the mcnatt family to move on to something different.  a new chapter.  of course we're sad to be leaving the water behind. we've treasured up some great memories in our short time here.  living on water has been an incredible treat for all of us.  and who knows, we might do it again someday!  

march madness

A little madness in the Spring
Is wholesome even for the King.~ Emily Dickinson

i was serenely reading to bella on the couch when i heard the bloodcurdling scream.  yes, i can only describe it as a scream to curdle the blood and it was coming from emily in her room.  bella and i leaped off the couch, just as emily ran into the room clutching her phone. and before i could ask her what was wrong, she dramatically wailed, "mom, it's 74 degrees in atlanta today! that's more than a 50 degrees difference from minnesota!"  we both turned and stared out the large picture window at the back of our house.  bloodcurdling screams and the wailing words of teenage daughter -- our march madness was in full swing.

tyler brushing off his sister's car this morning.  

and this morning i woke up to several inches of snow.  it is monday and it is supposed to snow all day long. karen carpenter had no idea what she was singing about, "rainy days and mondays always get me down." give me a break! karen carpenter, clearly, never wintered in minnesota. this wednesday, the first day of spring, it is forecasted to be 7 degrees here in my new homeland.  bloodcurdling, you betcha!

but guess what?  i'm leaving.  yep, speaking of songs..."i'm leaving on a jet plane..."  wednesday, to celebrate that first day of spring, i'm heading to atlanta.  okay, here's what that really feels like:  I'M HEADING TO ATLANTA!!!  it is my first trip home since we moved to minnesota last summer...and i really don't even know how to process it all.  if you happen to be on delta flight 2013 wednesday afternoon, i'll be the slightly translucent woman potentially weeping in seat 7A.  i mean, i'll try not to be quite so demonstrative in my madness, but i am pretty sure it will be a little uncontrollable at that point.

i am heading back south, not really as a spring celebration, but to attend the perimeter women's retreat.   there are so many things about that which just seem to add fuel to the fire of my emotions.  i'll be there with a large group of some of my very dearest friends.  keep in mind i haven't seen them since our good-bye party last july.  that alone is ridiculously emotional for me. plus, we'll all be away together -- no children or husbands or household chores to distract us. no carpools to pick up or laundry to sort or meals to prepare.  i'm telling you, this just may be too much for one woman--this woman-- to handle all at once.

in addition, the retreat will have over 650 women in attendance.  many, many of these gals are friends.  i was emcee of the last retreat, so, because i was up front so much,  i have a connection with a lot of these women.  serving in that position allowed me to meet so many new, great ladies.  and because i am a relational person who likes to connect and communicate, you can just imagine what i'll be walking into -- a nonstop girl talk fest.

and then to add to all the madness, there's my job. i am going back to attend the retreat, but i've also been assigned a little role while i am there.  that's what happens when your best friends chair the event.  i get to "take care of" our main speaker.  and would you like to know who that just happens to be:  ann voskamp.  yep, best selling author, amazing writer, homeschooling-mother to six, wife to a farmer... THAT ann voskamp.  many of you have heard of her or have read her book, one thousand gifts.   i have mentioned it a time or two in my own blog because it truly had an incredible impact on my life at a critical time.  you see, it was her book i was reading the month before my cancer diagnosis in 2011.  i was reading her words and making my daily list of blessings when the doctor called and whispered the word cancer across the phone line.  what does a cancer diagnosis do to the counting of blessings?  when you feel like you can't count clearly or see easily or even breath...how can you go on carefully listing the blessings in life?  well, that was a big part of my story two springs ago.  i wrote a blog post called  breathing. seeing. counting.  it tells a little bit about how i was able to begin listing again.  you can click on the link or read this small excerpt from that post:

i started my list on march 22.  i have to say, it was going quite well for me.  i was kind of proud of my ambitious hunting.  even kind of proud of myself.  i took great delight in the way it was coming along, all the while enjoying the challenge and encouraging others.  i was writing easily.  deliberately.  vehemently.   and then on april 19th i heard the word cancer.  cancer brought quite a bit in my household to a halt.  i mean we all kind of Just Stopped.  we couldn't progress any further in anything, it seemed.  not in our laundry or lunch dates or laughter or even in our lists.   we were stuck.  i was stuck.  stuck right there under the frightening and forceful thumb of cancer and no wiggling or will was allowing us breath or escape.  at least not for while.  that is how it felt.  i had stacks of things on my desk...piles of things in my life to address.  a long list of items carefully written under the title To Do.  but there was nothing To Do and nothing got done.  and when i looked at my pretty blue journal sitting neglected on my counter, it made me want to weep.  i finally placed it in a drawer.  i could stand it not one minute more.  i had fallen under the crush of cancer and there seemed to be no possibility for the recording of blessing.

but then something happened.  it wasn't all of a sudden.   just small things....  glimpse of baby girl's brown eyes.  unexpected hug from teenage son.  bird song.  lavender. friend at back door with a meal.  perfect blue of hydrangea.  pink morning light framed in window above dish-dirty sink.  medication.   praying doctor.  gentle husband.  teen girl clearing dinner plates.  fingers deep in spring soil.  rain.  bandaid's calm on angry stubbed toe.  notes and cards arriving daily. my sister's long distance voice. thunder at three am....and there was the old breathing again.  i began to breath and then i began to look.   and when i began to look, i began to see.  and the listing came next.  i felt the cloud lifting.  slowly.  like morning fog which hangs around until well past noon.  little by little the gray was traded for blue.               ~ "breathing. seeing. counting."  june 2011

and two years later, cancer under control and now living in minnesota, i can say that the daily listing of blessings is still a powerful practice.  i don't want to compare minnesota to cancer (lol), but i am still in constant need of finding the treasures God gives each day --the simple things to say thanks over.  this is graceful living.  this is living in gratitude. and is there any other kind of living?

even today, even in the midst of this snowy monday, there is so much for which to give thanks.  yes, it is true i did have to walk out of the nail salon and through deep snow this morning in flip flops, but even in that there is rejoicing: my winterized feet have a spring pedicure...and I AM HEADING TO ATLANTA in two days.  come on! you know what i'm talking about. i could go on and on (and sometimes i do) about the fact that in this first week of spring we are buried in snow, but if i look, if i really look,  if i really train my heart and my eyes to truly see, i can find the blessings.  the snow may be unwelcome on march 18th, but it is still beautiful to see.  and i know underneath it all there will be a gorgeous summer up here in minnesota.  i can look at the picture of emily's car in the snow this morning, and i can choose to see a march snowstorm, or i can choose to see her brother kindly brushing off his sister's buried vehicle. it's a choice, after all.  it's always a choice. yes, i had a brutal, snowy flip flop walk earlier today, but, i had a warm car to climb into, i had a home to go back to, i have children who need me and a husband who loves me.  i have a starbucks drive-thru not too far away.  i have journeyed through some cancer, yet can still claim good health.  i have a loving God who forgives me my grumbling and loves me through the ungraceful moments of my living.

if you don't have a blue or brown or yellow journal,  go get one.  whether you live in the madness of snowy minnesota or the sometimes sunny-ness of the south, start listing.  start counting.  begin breathing the blessings.

“The practice of giving thanks...eucharisteo...this is the way we practice the presence of God, stay present to His presence, and it is always a practice of the eyes. We don't have to change what we see. Only the way we see.” 

― Ann Voskamp

a march snow day

it's march 5th and we finally have our first snow day.  you know it's bad out when they cancel school in minnesota.  this is the very first of the season,  but it's not like we haven't had our share of snow.  oh my goodness, no.   we have had snow on the ground since november.  we've had lots and lots of snow on the ground since november. in fact, we haven't even been able to see the ground since november.  but today, march 5th,  is our first official snow day.  it started falling yesterday morning and pretty much hasn't stopped.


everything is buried in heavy white -- gigantic globs of gooey sugar,  frosting every square inch of the outdoors.  i'm at my usual morning post near the fireplace checking as one school after another closes.  preschool closed.  grade school closed.  high school closed.  and those children who should be sleeping in are instead whooping and hollering around the house like it's christmas morning.  i shush them, attempting to send them all back to bed.  they can sleep in. curl up with a good book. snuggle down under the weight of warm blankets and stay there for as long as they like.  suddenly, we have nowhere to be.  magically, we are homebound. pancakes, the only thing on our agenda. and it's bliss.

but they don't go back.  because it's a snow day.

and who doesn't like a snow day?

who doesn't like to take a break in the middle of a busy week and be told, you must stay home and do nothing!  we all need that kind of pause.  it's more than just a day off of school, it's a gift to be grounded, at least on occasion.

in a few minutes i'll go into the kitchen and make chocolate chip or blackberry pancakes, pour another cup of coffee. i'll begin our day slow and quiet and soft  (if i can get these kids back to their beds)! as i'm typing this post, i watch connor with face pressed up against the glass of backdoor.  the snow is impressive.  even after weathering a full winter here, it is still something to see.  connor turns 10 this week, and we declare this snow day in honor of his birthday. double digits.  i bet we are knee deep into the double digit inches of snow today, as well.  it's a gift.

 
my thoughts could easily turn to the warm weather of the south.  i know full well what march 5th feels like in atlanta.  i remember many a first week in march playing or picnicking at the park...sweaty with spring heat.  i can picture the yellow of daffodils and forsythia and the glorious sun.  i could go there in my memory and emotion and feel the grumble begin hard in my gut -- if i let it.  i won't let it though.  my friend, carla, surprised me last week by leaving a pot of daffodils and some wheat seed and soil on my doorstep.  it was such a sweet gesture. she knows winter is wearing long all of a sudden for this woman.  those beautiful daffodils are on my kitchen counter this morning, sunnier than ever with the backdrop of pure white out the window.  are they mocking me? it would be easy to imagine their sunny faces laughing at my winter wrinkled brow.  but no.  only if i let them.  will they mock or will they encourage? the choice is mine.  i've been taking a photography class this past month and recently we had an assignment on focus.  focus changes everything, doesn't it?

so today we will probably sled or build snow forts or walk out on the frozen lake.  again.  we will slide our feet into boots which are looking like they've seen better days.  we will pile on coats which thrilled us in their november newness, but which have now lost the novelty.  we will locate our mismatched mittens and gloves...whatever we can find.  we will make our 10 zillionth cup of hot chocolate and add our 10 zillionth log to the fire.  and though winter in march can feel old and frayed and frustrating, we will do our best to keep our eyes on the yellow of kitchen-counter daffodils.

we will celebrate our snow day.

yes, this major snowfall, this march madness tells us that winter is long in minnesota. extremely long.  we had heard about this very thing.  we knew it.  we now know it, firsthand.  but we also know it is only a season.  God has given us seasons in life and some certainly do feel longer than others.  no matter where we live, no matter what our climate,  we all live in the occasional long season of life. much of the length depends on what we are willing to see.  daffodils or snowflakes.   snow day gift or snow day grumble.

the boys are already outside.

it's time to go make those pancakes.

"for everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven."  ~ ecclesiastes 3:1

no picnic happening here today.

by 10 am the boys had their tunnel built.  

and not that we make these choices perfectly.  i assure you we have also had our share of grumbling.  just yesterday i put up this picture of protest on facebook.  grumble. grumble.  and today, my friend, peggy (who happens to live in minnesota, but winter in florida)! posted this youtube video "the minnesota song." on my facebook wall.  sometimes we just have to choose to find some humor in it all.  

seeing in snow

another snowfall.

in just a week it will be march and yet winter continues to come. come hard. marching forward. there is no halt.  no holding.  no winding down. no letting up. no light at the end of this long, frozen tunnel.

the novelty of snow-things feels rather frayed today.  worn thin.  shovel rests against garage wall a bit slumped. tired sleds abandoned in backyard. soggy boots piled high at back door. dirty mittens missing their match.  scarves unravelling and abandoned in basket. and, of course, that grimy, grimy car covered in the slush and salt of severe weather.  everything subdued.  all things silently stark. color drained, dull. hushed cold, quiet.  woman, slightly weary.

another snowfall.

i stomp into my boots and bundle up in the down of my coat -- slipping on gloves and hat, my second skin.  and as i stomp and bundle and slip, i am faced with the choice:  embrace this day? greet this gift? or grumble at the Giver? door opens and the question hovers in the rush of icey air.  fist desiring to shake at sky.  flakes falling at my feet.  it's a choice. and it's mine for the moment. mine for the making.

and this white stuff reminds me.  it reminds me that we have choices every day. each day. in all sorts of storms.  do i allow something which seems so much, so heavy, so hard,  even something so hurtful,  to keep me from the gifts that He has left along the way.  i can claim blinding snow, but is it truly a blizzard or do i just choose not to see.

what has the Giver left for me today?

where are His gifts along my way?

blessings can be lost in the continuous swirling of this season. but, seeing is a choice.  even in blizzard conditions.

i have to remind myself. often.

i can claim blindness or i can claim His goodness.

and this reminding makes me think of the israelites when they rebelled and grumbled against the Giver. they shook fists at the flurries of falling manna.  tired and tempted. the novelty worn out, the gratitude worn off. in ezekiel God condemns israel as a "rebellious house."  He says she has "eyes to see, and ears to hear but does not hear." (ezekiel 12:2).  israel had a choice, but she shut her eyes.  she willfully went blind. and what about us? even in the midst of blizzards, God offers up the beautiful.  do i believe that?  am i israel?  am i going to allow myself to freeze in the feelings of winter frustration?

dear one, what is your winter right now?  what are you buried under at this moment?

in matthew 13 the disciples asked Jesus why he spoke in parables. and He answered them, saying:

“‘you will be ever hearing but never understanding;
    you will be ever seeing but never perceiving.
for this people’s heart has become calloused;
    they hardly hear with their ears,
    and they have closed their eyes.
otherwise they might see with their eyes,
    hear with their ears,
    understand with their hearts
and turn, and I would heal them.’

but blessed are your eyes because they see..."

i don't know about you, but i want blessed eyes, not blind eyes.

Jesus is clear.  if we won't see and hear what God gives, the time will come when we can't any longer.  when we willfully choose to look away, when we continually refuse to open wide, we will eventually grow more and more blind.  call it judgment.  call it justice.  call it just plain laziness. for it is only in the embracing and exercising of our spiritual eyes that we learn to truly see God's gifts.  even in a blizzard. especially in the blizzard.

oh, am i israel?

windshield wipers swipe furiously to keep up with the winter whoosh rushing past me.  i peer out at a road covered in white.  Lord, let me see.  allow me see what you bring even in the midst of this wintry mix...this mess...this momentary madness.  minnesota march a week away and all remains in the milky shades of faded color.

give me eyes that see your goodness.  your gifts.

remove the blinders from my eyes, that i may see your beauty.
remove the grumble from my heart, that i may see your grace.

wash any trace of blind rebellion from me...and leave me white.  white like winter.