The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases, his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. – Lamentations 3:22

The field, the road, the driveway were covered when I crept down the stairs in early morning dark.  Dry white flakes drifted all morning long,
through devotions and breakfast battles and the big out-the-door rush.  Slowly my own plans for the morning fell
apart – the roads looked bad and bundling the twins to pick up the sitter felt
like more than I could handle.  

I don’t do well with that – the letting go and shifting of
agendas, the surrender of a planned escape.  Fortunately it’s a move I’m privileged
to practice over and over again. 

The snow finally stopped by late afternoon and the sun broke
out like a warm smile, so the twins and I headed out to investigate the
altered landscape.  It was all there –
the natural beauty of white laid out, like powdered sugar coating
everything.  The sky was blue, like it
hasn’t been for days this side of the New Year. 
Then also, there was the joy of work, the fun of scraping the shovel
along the side-walk and driveway, the satisfaction of exertion that didn’t
involve the sink or laundry or sweeping the floors. 

The twins – two three-year-olds with their hoods up and
mittens on, clomping and stomping along in their winter boots – were a joy to
behold.  All morning long they ate snow
by the fire indoors, scooping it into their mouths from a cup I filled again
and again as they waited to go out and play. 
Outside they shoveled railroad tracks across the driveway and turned a
little plastic mower into a snow blower. 

Then they remembered snowballs and scooped up handfuls of
dried fluff to aim at my knees and shins. 
Levi spun around in a full circle with every throw, not noticing the
snow had fallen before he even began. 
Dry snow clung to my corduroys making bright white stripes against navy

I shoveled a path to the road for the older two coming home
later on the bus then, infiltrated by the cold, we walked back up the driveway
to head inside. 

Blessing was there, the entire day, as it is every day and
the harder I clung to disappointment, the harder it was to find it.
  The deeper surrender set-in, the more I let
go of what might-have-been and sank into what was, the more I could sense blessing
hovering on the periphery like a small white dove. 

I wanted it bad – wanted to feel the joy of God’s presence,
that falling-open and dropping into place that comes when I stand flat-footed
on the ground that’s solid, always, right where I am.  Walking toward the garage, under the blue sky
and sun, I thought, “It’s almost there, but not quite” and for the briefest of
moments I was disappointed. 

Then it seemed clear to me, clear like the light blue sky,
that it didn’t really matter. 

The blessing of love and acceptance, of guidance and care
are there, always, whether I can feel it quite completely or not. 
The steadiness, consistency and presence of
God’s love is neither dependent on my awareness nor diminished by my
unawareness. And that, is no small wonder.  

*   *   *   *

Welcome, friends, to the #SmallWonder link-up.

What if we chose to deliberately look for the small moments of wonder, the small sparks of presence, of delight or sorrow, of true humanity in which we meet God?  

That’s my proposal – that we would gather together here each week (or as often as we’re able) to share one moment of Wonder from each of our days. 

You’re invited to link-up a brief post of about five hundred words or less about a Small moment of Wonder.  Don’t worry if your post is too long, too short or not just right, you’re welcome to come as you are.

Looking for Unforced Rhythms?  We’re a community in transition.  We invite you to consider whether this new link-up meets your needs and to participate as you’re able.  

While you’re here, please do take a look around and encourage at least one other blogger with a comment.  

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