The streets here are eclipsed by snow, trees with branches that bow. I can't ever remember seeing the world look so clean, so covered. It has this quiet hopefulness. These blank days are ours to fill, this whole year blank. I like that thought. And I'm so grateful for the chance to start again.
I heard a woman pray so earnestly yesterday it made me weepy. The simplicity of her words just rang true. She said, "thank you for breaking open our darkness and letting us go. May I spend my life telling that story."
What clarity, what a sweet purpose for all my blank days...not always productivity, accomplishment, always reaching for something tangible. But may I always be returning, grateful, for the work of the cross. The work I couldn't do. That I have been let go, free, forever, washed white like the snow that presses high up to my window. And that I would spend this new year living, loving people well, driving to work, buying stamps, watching sunrises, waiting in line, finding one hundred new ordinary ways to say thank you.