Praying for Snow

"Dear God,
Will you please make it snow?
I would really love that.
Thanks. I love You. Amen."

Olivia has been praying this prayer for at least 8 months. Even through the blistering heat of the summer. I've been telling her that while God most certainly CAN answer her prayer, He usually doesn't bring snow when it's warm enough for us to swim outside. Even still, she has remained resolute in her ritual, and so hopeful that God will honor her request.

This year we made the drive south to be with my side of the family for Christmas. We enjoyed lots of good food, and activity with long walks, bike rides, and mildly hostile games of Settlers of Catan into the wee hours of the morning. Being with family made the time really special...minus the fact that it was a muggy 80*s outside. Perhaps I can blame it on Bing Crosby's "White Christmas" for setting my expectations, but being in shorts and t-shirts just doesn't feel very Christmasy to me. I want a nip in the air, and to wear jeans and slouchy sweaters with some coffee in hand. None of this "Turn on the AC, we're sweating to death" business.

Two days after Christmas, we returned home to find that a cold front had blown in. Olivia's excitement grew when we got out of the car and the bitter wind hit her face; "Maybe it will snow?!!". That evening, she prayed once again, and went to bed, full of hope.

During the night, God answered her prayers. Andrew got me up around 5:30 to show me what handiwork the Lord has been up to while we slept. Snow. It was everywhere. The ground was covered, the tree branches decadently trimmed, and beautifully silhouetted by the white sky. We stood looking out in awe, then both became giddy, anticipating Olivia's response to the granting of her requests.

I was in the kitchen when she rushed out of her room. Eyes wide, she let out a gasp of delight when she looked through the back window upon a world of white. She took it all in for a few seconds before a sense of urgency hit her...she needed to be out in the snow NOW. Breakfast was devoured, everyone was finally layered to Mommy's satisfaction, and out the back door we went. Joyous giggles were soon muffled by mouths full of snow. And it's wasn't that powdery stuff. No, it was a nice wet snow, perfect for mittened hands and creative minds to form. Snowmen were built, munchkin sized snow angels were made, and a path was tramped down the hill for sledding. It was a dream come true. And it delighted my heart to remind Olivia: "Isn't God so good to answer your prayers?! He loves you so much! Just look at this beautiful gift He gave you!"

Olivia's persistence in prayer reminds me that I need to keep praying, even if it's not the right season for Him to answer. Maybe right now He simply wants me to keep going to Him, continually asking that He will lift the pain, heal the brokenness, and bring the joy. To unflinchingly believe that He IS going to respond, and to stay hopeful. Unlike the unjust judge, who finally granted the nagging widow's request, we have a just Father Who loves to hear our petitions and grant us good things. Because He is good. And He brings snow to persistent little girls who ask great things of Him, with hope.

Theology and the Cat

It's been raining a lot lately, and finally with a dry sky, I needed to get outside. The girls were happily occupied grinding Play-doh into the carpet, so I stepped out back. The chill of the air made me draw a quick, cold breath into my lungs. It felt sharp, like the gut level pain I've known these past few months. The almost barren trees and grey sky tugged mercilessly at my melancholy. All of a sudden, I felt like Sadness from the movie Inside Out, and imagined myself doing a dramatic face plant right there in the yard. Pathetic, I know.

I stood amidst the dead leaves, getting lost in thoughts of all that this year has held. I was being swallowed up in the moment...one I knew might possibly end in a good cry. Maybe a good bawl would make me feel better? Perhaps I could get it out so I could move on? I decided, yes.

But then the cat came.

Yes, the cat. The feral kitten that Andrew discovered last year, who, to avoid capture, fought with all that her tiny razor teeth and claws could muster. She shredded his hands, his blood the christening into her dreaded life of domestication. She treated us like captor scum, but eventually decided she liked the reliance of daily food, water, and a warm towel on the garage floor. After some time, she made friends with our first cat, then reasoned that I wasn't so bad either.

It's been a year since we took her in, and now, after a great deal of patience and love towards her, she won't leave me alone. It's actually kind of annoying. I can hardly walk without tripping while she wraps around my ankles. And if I don't pay her enough attention, she nips at me, a reminder that her love tank isn't quite full enough.

So, in my pitiful moment, here she trotted over to interrupt me. Meowing, and leg curling, and nipping away, she was not to be ignored. I realized she thought her needs to be greater than mine, and that whatever face plant I held in my heart, would have to be set aside to feed her belly. She snaked through my legs as we walked to the garage, her singing praises all the way, knowing her dreams were about to come true. Or so I assumed.

I stopped short when I saw her food bowl. It was full.

Conviction settled over me thick. Her need wasn't food. She just wanted to spend time with me. Not just passive, admiring-at-a-distance time, but an all-up-in-my-business, nipping-at-my ankles time.

Am I like that with my dearest people? And more importantly, am I like that with God? With every need attended to and a bowl brimming with grace, am I anxious to run to Him? Not to ask for more of anything, except for more of Him?

"My bowl is full, God, but I just need a little more of You. To be in Your Presence. To hear You. To be filled up with what can't be seen or accounted for. To savor the Presence so strong and sweet that derails all my fears. To receive Your love, in the way that You give it, because it's for my good. Because You know what's truly best for me, even if I don't want it at the time."

Many thanks to the persistent, formerly feral cat, for the reminder that what I need more than a pity party, is more of Him. Goodbye Sadness. I'm present to breathe in His essence, hear His truth, and be comforted by His love, which mends my wounds, and sets all things right in the proper time.