“Let the heavens be glad, and let the earth rejoice; let the sea roar, and all that fills it; let the field exult, and everything in it! (Psalm 96)

“The heavens declare the glory of God, and the sky above proclaims his handiwork. (Psalm 19)

Friday morning, and we’re hunkered down! Kind of. Hope you are safe and warm somewhere too.

As you must know by now, and are likely tired of hearing me say, “Winter is not my thing.” I won’t go on about it, but I love heat, sun (much too too much for my dermatologist!) green grass, floral and fruitful air, and warm nights to sit out under the stars around a fire. Today the fire is here, inside!

When I think of all those scriptural moments when writers are celebrating creation and sense it giving thanks, I think about green, lush summer, about endless fields of crops growing toward fruit, about water sparkling in the sunshine, seeming to beg me to go ahead and jump. What does NOT normally come to mind are bare trees, wind chills, and what’s going on today.

Until today. I was taught a lesson by the creation and the critters, and at the Spirit’s bidding. Here’s the narrative so far. About 530 Bear, our yellow lab, began licking my face to wake me up, a sure sign of his intentions to eat breakfast and do his biological work. So down the stairs he led me, thundering with excitement, I still waking up and being careful not to fall. After the usual 30 second breakfast, he lunged toward the sliding door to the backyard as I opened it, and sprinted out into the blizzard, his tan body blending in by the back fence. After a few minutes hs spoke again, “Let me in!” he said. And I turned on the news with anticipatory fear of what’s just beginning to come our way. Snow blower and roof rake are ready.

But Bear would have none of the usual pattern of morning news and coffee. No, he said under no uncertain terms, “I want you to take me back outside. And now.” Bark, bark, bark, and a look straight into my eyes of longing, of “please, please!” And so I put on my new Christmas boots, bundled up, and out we went.

The first thing I noticed was the loud silence and stillness. The lack of school buses and commuters and any people, anywhere. Because of this, I became aware of the crunchy walk of my feet, and the wind, oh the wind singing a song. As we turned down the old abandoned path where train tracks once were, I did something I rarely do — unhooked the leash, to Bear’s astonishment and delight, and he began about two minutes of what we call “zoomies”, of dead sprints back and forth past me, all around me, stopping only long enough to roll in the snow. It was for me a pure expression of his joy and delight. I felt as though his spirit was bidding my summer into thanksgiving for creation’s wonder. A red cardinal I would never have noticed on another day watched from a branch above. Lightning and thunder and even a fired up transformer had something to say (yikes!).

I stood for a good while until I could not deny the absolute beauty and wonder of the day, and I began to consider on the way home how limited my view is of creation’s glory, and how the Creator’s praise for it all is muted by my preoccupations.

So hoping it’s not sacrilege, I’d like to add a verse to meld in with all the others: “Let the snow fly, and the winds blow, Let the creatures play and let the icicles form.” Today will always live on in my memory as a blessed day.

Now Sunday it’s going to be 4 degrees with a stiff north wind, minus 25 wind chill. Full disclosure, that I’m not yet ready to proclaim that this too represents a thankful creation. But I hope to get there when I see you on Sunday.

I hope today and tomorrow as nature rages with power you will rejoice and give thanks, taste and see that the Lord is good. You can take bear for a walk if you need help to do it!

Love from Here

Peter Hawkinson

(This blog is written in memory of our first beloved Yellow Lab, Silas, who filled four lives with joy from 2007-2021, and in celebration of all our beloved pets who show us life’s wonder).