by Stephen R. Clark
All winter we were teased with snow that dusted the brown and green grass with a thin, worn shawl of white filigree. Not Dylan Thomas’s childhood “whitewash buckets” of snow that “came shawling out of the ground.” Just a smattering of crazed flakes, some fat, some not, careening delicately down the breezing cold gray days. We wished for more, like Moses’s manna that turned the desert sands into a sparkling sea of delicious white. Snow redeems and manna feeds the weary soul, bundled and trudging through the wilderness. Empty, we turn our faces to heaven, mouths open, tongues out, praying for a taste of hope seasoned with a little joy. Hungry, we wait for spring to bring something even more substantial, anticipating new life and resurrection, with broken bread and blood red wine, lilies, and roses.
Stephen R. Clark is a writer who lives in Lansdale, PA with his wife, BethAnn, and their two rescue cats, Watson and Sherlock. He is a member of the Evangelical Press Association and a regular contributor to and the managing editor of the Christian Freelance Writers Network blog.