Our yard and driveway transform overnight into a skating rink.
The trees bow or else raise their limbs to silvery worship.
The ice cannot discriminate; it covers all things equally, thoroughly.
That ice, although dangerous, makes this winter morning glorious. I look out the window and see how the ice upon the winter berry bush acts like a giant magnifying glass directing my gaze towards those buds.
The children pull their snow pants on over their pajamas and hardly finish breakfast. They skate on the driveway and worry over the tree limb that carries their tree swing.
It has no choice but to bend in a storm like this. Lord, let me be covered like this–thoroughly–with whatever reflects your glory. Let me bend and bow. In this way, I will not break.
Journal: Where do I need to bend and bow (instead of remain stubborn) today?