It’s officially winter here.
Snow swirls up and settles, finally, on the land.
But it’s the worst kind of snow because there’s not enough to do anything with it.
But the neighborhood children, despite the lack of significant snow accumulation, still coax sleds down hills all afternoon. And they still make snowmen no matter how little they are given. In one child’s front yard, I stop and notice she’s made a mama and a baby snowman, in miniature.
Lord, help me take what I’ve been given today and turn it into a beautiful thing.
Living with flair means I make something out of whatever I’m given.