White as Snow

It’s snowing. The first real snow of the season. Shrieks of joy fill the living room as the children press their noses against the window. They scamper outdoors, poking and jabbing every sparse flake as it flutters to the ground until it is time to go.

We pile into the car and the ride goes something like this.

Her body wedged between theirs. Booster to thigh. Thigh to booster. Squeezed across the tiny bench seat in the vehicle that provides the most miles per gallon.

It begins with a poke. A small jab. A fluttering under the breath. Someone wants what someone else has. But isn’t that how most battles begin? The temperature inside the vehicle plummets as the battle for elbow space rages and the light snow turns ugly. It’s war.

War is always ugly, bringing to the surface what hides within—

—Within every one of us.

The car swerves to the side spitting gravel and jerks to a stop. “THAT IS ENOUGH!”

The youngest covers his face and cries. “I don’t like that sound!”

The sound of the small vehicle shuddering as tractor trailers fly by? Or the sound of his mother’s anger?

Conviction falls like that snow. Softly, then poking and jabbing my hard, cold heart, burying me under the ugly truth. War rages in me, bringing to the surface what hides within.

It. Is. Ugly.

The anger is mine. The sin is mine. And it is time to own it.

Be angry and do not sin.

It is no longer about the correction and instruction of my children. It is about accepting correction and instruction from my Lord.

Forgive me.

And the snow eases. Once piled high in weighty conviction, it disperses into gentles flurries that bury me under a blanket of white that covers a lifetime of failure. Making me, white as snow.

White as snow. Though my sins were like scarlet, Lord I know, I am clean and forgiven. Through the power of your blood. Through the wonder of your love. Through faith in you I know that I can be white as snow.~ Keon Olguin

 

 

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