The meager measurement
of snow in recent months has made me long for the past when snow was measured
by how far it came to my waist. Mind you that in those days I was just
four-and-a-half feet tall! Everything is a bit skewed when the standard of
measurement is a squatty elementary school kid’s waist. However, in March
19-21, 1958, the weather service recorded astounding snow depths in inches and
not the waist of an elementary student. During those three days snow totals that
were recorded included: 50” in Morgantown; 33” in York and Holtwood; 13” in
Lancaster, and an undocumented total of 36” in Gap. As a result of the storm’s
heavy wet snow, multiple thousands of people in the eastern Pennsylvania lost
electricity as power lines snapped and trees fell.
Living in the western suburb of
Philadelphia, we were without power for almost a week. We put our perishables
in boxes and buried them in the snow until electrical power was restored. We
were one of the fortunate ones on our block that had natural gas hot water heat
and we invited others without heat to stay warm in our house. An added bonus –
no school for a week! After reflecting on the past, why do I ever long for
those former snowy days?!
It is amazing how people think that they
are in control of life until of course they aren’t. All that it takes is for
the Lord of creation to allow some slippery precipitation to fall and the
well-designed plans of people go awry. In the Book of Job, one of Job’s
friends, Elihu, speaks of the majesty of the God as seen in His control of nature.
Elihu first notes God’s majesty seen in a thunderstorm (Job 37:1-5). Then Job’s
friend describes by contrast the quiet snow falling on the earth by saying, “He
says to the snow, ‘Fall on the earth’” (37:6). We see and hear God’s majesty
revealed not only in the thunder of the storm but also in the stillness of the
falling snow.
The poet Robert Frost captures this
thought in his poem, “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening.” He writes:
Whose woods these are I think I
know.
His house is in the village
though;
He will not see me stopping
here
To watch his woods fill up with
snow.
My little horse must think it
queer
To stop without a farmhouse
near
Between the woods and frozen
lake
The darkest evening of the
year.
He gives his harness bells a
shake
To ask if there is some
mistake.
The only other sound’s the
sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
Have you ever stopped “To watch the woods
fill up with snow,” and listen to the sound of “the sweep of easy wind and
downy flake?” Humans rarely take time for such contemplation. We are too busy
listening to the Weather Channel’s best guesses, or burying our noses in our
electronic devices to check out cancelations, or running to the local market to
gather our “French-toast-ingredients” (milk, bread, and eggs), or a number of
other diversions. As a result we miss the rest and solitude that comes from
silent contemplation of the Divine Creator’s marvelous works seen all around us
– even in the quietness of the falling snow.
My son lives in upstate New York in the snow
belt off Lake Ontario. His region has already received 143 inches of snow this
winter. While visiting him on one occasion, I snowshoed though his fields and
into his woods. There I was surrounded by nothing but beautiful flakes of snow
sifting through branches. I took off my knit hat for a few moments to listen to
the almost imperceptible hiss associated with the falling snow. As snow fell on
my face the words of a hymn came to mind, “Speak, Lord, in the stillness, While
I wait on Thee; Hushed my heart to listen, In expectancy.” As I stood there the
thought came, “Do I take time to listen in the silent times God brings into my
life?” The prophet Elijah came to mind when God was about to make Himself known
to him. God did not reveal Himself in the strong wind, earthquake, or fire. God
revealed Himself in a “still small voice” (1 Kings 19:11-13).
Perhaps it would be good to go outside the
next time it snows – if it does – and listen to the silence. The still small
voice of God may even whisper to our hearts. The Psalmist suggests God says to
us, “Be still, and know that I am God” (46:10). Perhaps a culture obsessed with
activity and noise needs to chill and turn back the volume a bit. God has a
message for us through His Word. Sometimes in the silent times of our lives He
brings that Word to the frontal lobe of our consciousness. We don’t need wait
for snow to take some time to be silent and listen for His still small voice.
Make some time to do this soon.
