We moved back into our house on Christmas Eve. After 8 months and 8 days. But who’s counting?
It felt so good to be back home. I can’t even begin to describe it. After all the festivities that Christmas Day brings, all 4 of us were snuggled up watching movies on the couch that night.
I don’t know what made me look, but for some reason I glanced over to the front door. It was already dark and the porch lights were on. I could see snow falling!!!
Huge, fluffy snowflakes were coming down in Georgia?!?!? This might not seem strange to much of the country, but I heard that the last time snow fell on Atlanta at Christmastime was in 1882.
The kids were excited and wanted to go outside, but anything I could have used to bundle them up with was buried in a box somewhere. They were content to watch it fall.
However, I felt the need to be in it. Using Stafford as an excuse, I slipped on my tennis shoes, grabbed my coat and camera, and went to “walk the dog”.
I was profoundly affected by the snow falling against the backdrop of my newly restored home. As I snapped a few pictures, these lyrics kept going ’round and ’round in my head: “Jesus paid it all….All to Him I owe…Sin had left a crimson stain…He washed it white as snow”.
Through the tears I began to thank Him. I thanked Him for the reminder. Thanked Him for new beginnings. And thanked Him for the birth of His Son, which makes all things white as snow.
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