“What good is the warmth of summer without the cold of winter to give it sweetness?” — John Steinbeck

Yesterday morning, as the snowstorm was in its last phase, I headed out to walk the dog.  Having hilariously engaged roly-poly style with the drift in my driveway the day before — which, thankfully, no one got on video — I opted to cut across the front yard to get to the street.  This involved drifts to my knees interspersed with open patches of grass, and it occurred to me that though walking through the drifts was more difficult, it was also more fun.  Memories came back of snow forts and snow shoes; of making a path through the unbroken snow and games of “Duck Duck Goose” and snowshoes and snow ice cream.  As I watched my dog, Izzy, romp with such joy, I laughed out loud as she ran with her head buried in the snow, having caught the scent of some wild thing.  Someone in a passing truck stopped to say hello and to exclaim on the beauty of the morning.

After returning home, I sat to do some writing, and soon I heard the scrape of snow shovels and then the sound of a plow.  I found my snow boots and donned a jacket and went out, grabbing the snow shovel on my way.  Neighbors were helping neighbors, clearing walks and digging out cars.  Introductions were made amidst the pushing of vehicles away from the curb where the drifts had captured them.  One neighbor made a joke about this type of thing not being in my “job description” and we all laughed.  But in reality, it is the essence of my work.  The “great commandments” are found in Matthew 22:  “’You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind.’ This is the greatest and first commandment.  And a second is like it: ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’  On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets.”

Beautiful.  Sometimes love comes wrapped in boots and mittens and looks much like a shovel full of snow.

May the love and grace of God rule your hearts, this week and always.