Wild Wind

The wind is wild. The snow flurries fly furiously in all directions, sometimes marching as in columns above the barren fields, sometimes scattered and darting as if in some maniacal dance. 

Winter has announced itself, though no snow lies on the ground nor does ice accumulate in deadly and invisible splashes. 

Saturday afternoon of a wild and wintry week. A week of wild and vicious physical attacks on some whom I love; a week of violent food poisoning and its aftermath. And yet, in the midst of the storms of the week, a quiet calm has prevailed.

As it says in Lamentations 3, Because of the Lord’s great love, we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. I say to myself, ‘The Lord is my portion: therefore I will wait for him.’

And then the final encouragement in this passage of Scripture, The Lord is good to those whose hope is in him, to the one who seeks him. It is good to wait quietly for the salvation of the Lord.

I have been reminded of my dear old dad’s encouragement which he gave me again and again, ‘This too shall pass.’ 

Spring shall follow winter. The daffodils and crocus are already pushing their way through the frozen soil. 

So despite the wild wind, we are full of hope.