Sunday, January 13, 2002
|
Sunday, January 13, 2002 |
|
If I'd ever doubted ... By MARY JANE HOLT It was around noon Jan. 3 when I finally ventured out of the house. My cozy fire had won out for a day and half over taking a walk in five to seven inches of snow, depending on where I would step. But finally I had found my sense of adventure and out the back door I went. I walked slowly, hugging the edge of the yard and the fields, not wanting to mar nature's perfect palette. Feeling more and more like an intruder with every step, I meandered around to the back field and climbed up into one of Daniel's deer hunting stands to quietly observe the changed landscape. I let myself try to take in the beauty before me. I wished for a camera. I had not brought one with me. I had my binoculars, but couldn't bring myself to use them because of the limited field of vision they offered. I wanted to drink in all of it. The sound of the soft wind in the trees was more beautiful than any musical performance I have ever heard. An occasional thump of snow falling below me sounded like a distant drum demanding a part in the performance. Time almost stood still. After what was probably about 45 minutes I climbed down and continued to walk. At one point I thought I'd try to build a snowman. I lasted about 15 minutes and had what looked more like a pyramid, I suppose, than Frosty or one of his playmates. Oh well, I knew when I started my excursion that I could not improve on what lay before me. It was shortly after I had given up on my snowman and started walking again that I began to notice what looked like the tiniest diamonds imaginable on the velvety white ground around me. They sparkled in the sunlight like nothing I had ever seen before. When I bent down to examine this newfound treasure, I saw that they were snowflakes. I had never seen a snowflake before. Not really. I had never really looked at one like I found myself doing at that moment. I no longer wanted my camera and the binoculars were of no use at all; at that point, I longed for a magnifying glass. I lost track of time I as a gingerly moved from one spot to another to gaze at the snowflakes. So tiny. So perfect. So awe-inspiring. I have drawn snowflakes before. I cut out snowflakes in elementary school art class. I have admired many a lace or paper doily and wondered at their similarity to snowflakes, as I thought I knew a snowflake to be. ... I have seen pictures of snowflakes, freehand drawings, paintings, computer renditions in more books, magazines and newspapers than I could begin to name. And repeatedly, through all my exposure, I had been told and had read that each snowflake is unique. Amazing, I had thought. That was before I looked closely at my first snowflake, and then my second and ... suddenly, amazing didn't touch it. As I knelt on my knees in the snow only inches from these majestic little works of art I thought, "If I ever doubted there was a God, a Creator, a Mastermind behind the universe, all doubt has to go now." Then I suddenly felt small and very exposed. There I was. Just God and me and all those snowflakes. "IF I had ever doubted ..." He alone knows how much I doubt, how many questions I have asked, how brazen I can be at times. Oh, yeah, I have wondered. Wondered is what I like to say. And doubted. Yep, I've done my share of that, too. But for a few minutes sometime between 11 a.m. and 2:30 p.m. on Jan. 3, 2002, I had no doubts. Truly my sense of wonder ruled and my vision of God's handiwork left no room for unbelief. "For since the creation of the world his invisible attributes are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made. ..." Romans 1:20 (KJV). May this new year hold for us all a new sense of wonder, a renewed and more reverent recognition of the Creator, and a brand new, much deeper appreciation for all his creation.
|
||