This morning I sit by my window, warm cup of Maxwell House in my embracing fingers, comforted by a propane log fire, accompanied by two large dogs who stare at the falling snow with—what is it? Fear? Disinterest? A desire to stay warm?
It is a snow day, a rare thing in North Georgia, or I should say, a rare thing that becomes reality after threats by the weather service. This is supposedly the icepocalypse. We have to hunker down, avoid roads, work remotely.
Fine with me. I pull up the shades in the family room and can watch the pleasant site of bright scarlet male cardinals at my feeders and their dun-colored mates. Pleasant to me, perhaps not to them. Since neither I nor Butter nor Nala are outside, they are free to find food, which may already be diminished. They are also free to chase off other birds. I see another species—perhaps a type of Chickadee—that is a newcomer.
Since it has been overcold the last few days, the snow is sticking and piling. About an inch has fallen in 90 minutes. A Christmas card sight, a romantic pull. Especially for us in this part of the South, and for us who live in northern regions, this site outside my secure window is nostalgic, lovely, unreal in a way.
I muse on how much I sit by a window—of electronic screens, mostly, and print—and digest images that perplex, interest, fascinate, and horrify me. Ukraine. Israel. Gaza. Palisade Hills. Newton, Tennessee. And More.
And that I am even contemplating whether I should put shoes on and give the cardinals and crows and chickadees more birdseed, and thinking, “they can take care of themselves, they don’t need human help, birds survive without us” causes me to lament my heart’s stoniness, far colder than the falling snow.
Didn’t Jesus say the Father takes care of the birds of the air? Isn’t the world His business? Isn’t He sovereign over the affairs of men, in all parts of the world?
A man was buried yesterday who, for all his faults and political mistakes, believed that and yet did not see it as a limitation. He saw it, as should we, as our responsibility because we are united with this Father we claim to worship, that we are part of His Son’s body that will not get on its knees before the gates of hell, that we have one major rule of life, to love.
I will pour more coffee and post this to the blog. Satisfied. My work is done here. But not there.
Where are my shoes?
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