When Spring Comes with Snow

February came with the prayer that God would be my Refuge. And, of course, He answered. I spent time in Psalm 31, soaking in the truths, finding my broken-record heart to be carefully listened to by the God of all beautiful things.

I found Refuge.

And I am living proof that God is always ready to receive weariness, discouragement, and a world of disjointed emotions. I am comforted by the Holy Spirit who intercedes for me. I am comforted by the Living Word which floods this desert-soul with truth and burrows deep for the promise of another spring.

For the wonder that I can experience quite a few spring-times in one short year. For Psalm 31 which sustained my heart in the second week of February. And Isaiah 40 which reminds me that God is powerful in both wisdom and understanding while intimately present in my life with love, nurture, and kindness.

There are new prayers in which I ask “What needs to change?” And small answers that the change is rooted in praise and thanksgiving, in lifting my hands and releasing, in creating art I’ve never tried before, in peeling back the unskilled parts of me and boldly offering them to God anyway.

There’s snow that interrupts the questions and reflections. And happiness which was buried like a grave before Psalm 31 and Isaiah 40 is bursting out effortlessly with the falling snowflakes. Laughter accompanies.

I can see with startling clarity that God truly is my Refuge, that I have known the intimacy of which the Psalmist speaks “He shall cover you with His feathers, and under His wings you shall rest.” (Psalm 91:4) I have been covered. I have rested. I still am.

Springtime is never far away.

And only God can make snowflakes a reminder of spring. Only He can interrupt soul-winters with patches of spring that look like snow. Only God. Only ever Him. The Holy Spirit is interceding on my behalf. God is my Refuge. Snow can be the perfect place for spring.

And before you file away your assumptions about this post, I need you to pause. This isn’t about me. Or your perceptions of me. This is about God and what He’s doing right in the midst of knotted emotions and earth-bound life. Because if you’re honest with yourself, you’ve felt this way too.

We’re wrapped in humanity. We’re pressing into God. We’re wrestling, struggling, seeking, finding, hurting, hoping, crying, believing…

Let us be fully honest, peeling back all layers, offering up all tears, and praying confidently for another spring.

And springtime, I’m learning, is never as far away as we think. Sometimes it comes with flowers and sometimes it comes with snowflakes. We just have to train our eyes to see.