I’ve never compared snow to love, but I guess there’s a first time for everything.
An inch of the white stuff powders our lives today like confectioners’ sugar through a sifter. The former transgressions—if one can call them that—of strewn garbage from passersby in our neighborhood, the dog’s “gifts” deposited in the back yard, and the need for a second raking of leaves are smoothed over in a single sheet of precipitation. Pure, beautiful, flawless.
… show deep love for each other, for love covers a multitude of sins.
I might forgive, but memories linger. What about the one who trashes my blog (and me) on social media even though he’s never met me? What about the person close to me who needles me whenever she can? What about the one whose insecurities shake up my attitude when it’s peaceful around me—or maybe because it’s peaceful around me?
What about those?
Many people are easy to love. But what about the ones who chuck their garbage into our lives, leave their droppings in our back yard, and abandon their leaves—again!—on our property after we’ve swept them away?
Is love enough to cover them?
My love is like a dusting of snow. But love with a capital L can do it, and I’m going to look up, waiting for it to fall all over our world and cover everything, including me.
Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.
*Names in this blog have been changed to protect my family and friends in the neighborhood, and in a nod of appreciation to the beloved Swedish author Maj Lindman, I’ve renamed my three blondies Flicka, Ricka, and Dicka.