Are You Overlooking the Lord's Faithfulness?

We had snow in Auburn, Alabama.

I know what you're thinking... "Yeah, sure. One dip below freezing temperatures that brought a little frost. And let me guess... Grocery stores were ransacked of all basic essentials?" Nobody could blame this assumption given our reputation down here, but this wasn't your typical "false alarm" snow. We have had our fair share of school cancellations that resulted in beautiful, mildly chilly days, but this was different. It was real snow, at least a couple of inches. To some this may seem like a light dusting, but to us Southerners we had been blessed with a winter wonderland of Christmas movie proportions. And just like that, we were given the most beautiful pause that nobody knew we needed. What was intended to be a three day weekend turned into an additional winter break.

There is something about being snowed in that brings with it an immense comfort and coziness. These wintertime pleasantries were compounded with an unexpected byproduct of snow that this Southerner did not anticipate- quiet.

Roads were empty. Construction sites nearby fell silent. Even the familiar rustling of leaves from critters behind our fence was muffled by the fresh powder that covered them. Snow, after all, is a natural insulator. Our home was shrouded in peace that it had never known before. It was as though the whole world stood still.

This profound experience brought with it a very striking realization. In the world of heated and air conditioned homes where everyone has a refrigerator and can purchase anything for it to be delivered hours later, quiet is a commodity that is very hard to come by. Even on what we would consider a "slow day", we are marching along to the soundtrack of the world's productivity around us without even realizing it. Tires on the pavement, squeaky brakes of a garbage truck, acceleration of a motor cycle... Not to mention the screens we surround ourselves with. All of these things have been accepted as our brain's baseline of noise perception. It's only when they are taken away that one can really come to understand how truly loud our days are.

There is of course nothing inherently malicious or evil about the necessary sounds that come with daily life in the 21st century, but I think there is something to be said for how numb we are to it and how mindlessly we accept this noise. If our lives are noisy, chances are that our thoughts are too. If our days are filled with a steady drumming and humming from things that "just need to be done", chances are that we struggle to experience peace in our hearts. And this is where we can see a neglect to hear the Lord's voice in our daily lives. It becomes difficult to appreciate the littlest ways He is working for our good, and this is something I am guilty of firsthand.

Jeremiah 29:11

"For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."

But how often do we find ourselves exasperated with the pulls of the every day and filled with the noise we abide in that we wonder where He is? We get so swallowed up in the sounds of this world that we cannot hear the voice of our Shepherd.

The snow day we experienced with our almost four month old son was filled with joy and serenity. As this day of pure bliss came to a close, Ryan and I took to a familiar habit. It has become tradition in our household that whenever Dean is asleep for the night, we spend some time scrolling through the inevitably large pool of photographs we have taken of him that day. This particular evening, when our home was surrounded by freshly fallen snow and the deep sense of contentment still swelled in our hearts, a photo caught me off guard. Ryan had captured our bedtime story in the nursery together, and it hit me. Not four months prior had I read that very same book to Dean in the hospital under very different circumstances.

For those of you who don't know, Dean's entrance into the world was very tumultuous. Our planned homebirth quickly turned south, and when the dust settled, our beautiful plan to be cocooned at home with our son was replaced by a 14 day stay in the NICU at Baptist South in Montgomery. I scrolled back thousands of pictures ago to find the memory that came to mind. Ryan and I sat by the bed of our son, just over a day old. His legs were splayed out on either side, wires tangled accross his little body, a breathing tube in place, and sensory deprivation goggles and earmuffs fastened to his little head. We were encouraged not to touch him. The heartache that we felt that day flooded my body instantly. We had just experienced the most traumatic day of our lives, and we were uncertain if our son would ever leave his hospital bed. In the midst of our uncertain circumstances, we clung to the Light with everything we had. This included daily rosaries prayed at Dean's bedside and relishing any opportunity to treat him like a normal baby, like the son we had prayed so fervently for. As a first grade teacher, this meant reading picture books to him whether he could truly experience them or not.

The image that Ryan captured a few months later was such a stark contrast to this memory. Our son layed on his back on the floor of his nursery atop a blanket we laid out for him. His neck and head arched back as far as they could to show me his beaming smile as I read the book aloud to him. He giddily alternated between rolling onto his tummy to see the illustrations back to facing me. I enjoyed every moment of this with our son, Ryan sitting in the rocking chair beside us. The quiet and peace we experienced that day allowed us to fully immerse ourselves in thanksgiving. The holiness of this time together was not lost on us.

Psalm 118: 16-17

"The right hand of the Lord has done mighty deeds, the right of the Lord has exalted me. I shall not die, but I shall live and recount the deeds of the Lord."

Moments like these are to be cherished, but they also offer us the opportunity for examination. We are called to live this way daily. If we fail to insulate our hearts like freshly fallen snow from the distractions of this world, we will miss these little glimpses of Heaven. We will miss the evidence of God's love for us and how he sustains us daily.

-Tess