snowflakes and rivers.

Today is that kind of day. You know, the kind of day that, in the middle of an oncoming spring, the silver winter claims for it's own...perhaps, for the last time. The mountain air crisply enters one's lungs and the gray clouds hang heavy in the sky, promising a last winter snow. And they keep their word. Looking up, lovely, tiny, enchanted snowflakes dance a slow waltz from their gray castles in the sky.

It is a perfectly, beautiful, winter day. Not just any winter day, the kind of winter day where anything is possible just because it is spring and this day is here despite the odds. The kind of winter day that is sad in it's beauty, knowing full well that it's time is coming to a close. It creeps in through the windows of this little mountain coffee shop, surrounding my dancing fingers, making it just a bit harder to finish this dance across the keys. Looking out at the mountain river rushing by, I watch the gentle snowflakes fall into it's waters, transforming from snowflakes to river water. What is it like for them, do you suppose, when they are consumed by that great water? I should very much like to ask them. It is such an enchanted day, I'm almost certain they could answer. I don't imagine snowflakes speaking in words, but I believe they must sing out their replies, like tiny silver bells. Can you imagine a snowflake sounding any other way? Yet, I don't think one could have a very serious conversation with a snowflake, they are such flippant little things, here one minute, gone the next. We'd talk of nothing in particular...things like the ever changing sky, my what strange weather we're having today, what a beautiful tree that is across the water. Just sealing wax, cabbages, and kings things. Nonsense things...

Now, what about that river? If I walked down and sat on it's shore, asking what it's like to be filled with tiny, dancing snowflakes, I imagine it would chuckle deeply it's reply. We would talk of a great many things, not just snowflakes and nonsense, but deep, abiding things. Truth. Rivers know a great deal of truth, I'm sure. Truth about their Creator, truth about time, truth about this life and all it's heartaches and joys. It would tell me of all the history it has seen, of the vast amount of time it has lived, always here, always flowing, always the same, yet ever changing. It would tell me this is what it is to live this life with our Creator. To flow ever deeper, ever quicker, ever the same, yet ever changing in all that He is. It would plead with me to let Him take my life and cause it to ebb and flow in His will, letting His hand guide the waters of my soul. We would talk of His great and abiding joy, of His love and the utter overflowing of life that He gives. Yes, this is what I would talk with the river about, if such a thing were ever to occur.

For, it is that kind of day you know. The sort of day where hauntingly beautiful music is all that will do. The notes float about, in my head, in my spirit, in my heart. They weave in and out, here and there, making all that I am witnessing so much more beautiful.

Listen. Breath in. Breath out. Just live...it's the perfect day for living:-)