There I stood in an open field, in a New England, in winter. The ground was white, covered with a foot of fluffy dry snow. Looking back I could see my path across the field.
The trees near by hung low, heavy with a covering of white. The moon was full in the early nighttime sky. The world had an awesome glow reflecting off the fresh snow. It was so quiet, not a sound was to be heard. The snow muffled even my footsteps. My layers of clothes muffled my heartbeat.
My breath made clouds in front of my face as I talked out loud to God. I had to thank him for the beauty of the view that was all around me. Yes it was cold, but that did not matter. I was nearly done my paper route. The next farmhouse would be my last. But I had to stop mid field just to say thanks. And there to talk, in winter’s peace, with the prince of peace.
Only God could have conceived and orchestrated such beauty, so quiet and peaceful a place and time for us to talk together. My memory holds that time long ago so dear and favored in my heart.
If only I could go back again, I would have so much more to talk about and be thankful for. If only we could share that beauty, and that peace again.
Read the full article
