First thing this morning, Sky and I ventured into the world of swirling white snow that laid in drifts as far as we could see. It had blown and snarled all night, whistling through the dark, fierce in its cold and its ice.
But as day broke, it was as gorgeous as it was calm and benign and we set out to take stock of it all. More than that, to revel in it like children exploring something so awesome that is sets the mind afire and makes everything possible.
As we zigzagged through the virgin white terrain–everything pure and unmarred–it was as if the landscape was a canvas upon which I could write my thoughts. My dreams. My aspirations. I truly felt as if God was challenging me to write on the snow, something worthy of the immense beauty he laid before me.
What would I write?
How deep could I probe inside of my mind, my emotions, to identify a challenge worthy of this?
Was I worthy of it all?
Could I rise to another level? Raise the bar on myself? Be worthy of the majesty of the winter morning?
At times, my mind wandered away from the profound to the simple joy of a sweet and delighted Golden Retriever prancing, diving and rolling through the white kingdom. Just watching him revel in the joy of his reckless abandon, was more than enough. Far more.
But in each instance, I would wander back in my thoughts to the challenge the blank landscape presented me. It felt highly personal but perhaps it is a universal question:
When challenged by the opportunity to think and plan anew, what will we scrawl in the snow?