On This Side of Me.

The snow if soft and quiet on the other side of this Idaho window. It's serene, quite honestly; little quaint homes topped with no more than a light dusting, little mail boxes soon to be buried, lawns and the children's toys they hold will soon be white as well.

Then there's me. On this side of the window.

The picture is quite less serene; messy morning hair, coffee breath, two pairs of sock to keep my toes from freezing. But my eyes are big, looking up into these falling flakes. It's mesmerizing.


Then there's You. On this side of me.

Serene isn't the word for you either. It doesn't quite fit. Because You're here in Your power and wonder. You're near in Your union and mystery.

And I wonder, have I missed You? During these traveling days, have I neglected You? I have forgotten to meet with You? Are we distant? Are we becoming strangers? We haven't sat quietly together in a while. But I think I heard You in Angela's wonderings about You, and I think I felt You when she put her hand on my back. When we talked about You, well… it was almost as if we were talking to You. Because You were there. Because You were near.

And I am grateful.