Footprints in the Snow

Months, it seems,
Have I spent in fighting.
Up and down and back and forth,
Back and forth and up and down,
As though I were taking a ride
On a roller coaster of terror.

The man at the front,
Mockingly dressed in garments of a happy bright,
Deceitfully seats me,
Straps me in tight.
His voice mercilessly rings out:

"Next stop, Depression!
Next stop, Despair!
Next stop, Despondence!"

"Please..."
Comes my weary cry,
"Let me off!"

Why do I submit to this cycle of destruction?
Why can I not find joy?
Why do I,
Over and over,
Spend weeks in the grind,
Only to be harshly awakened by
The reality that my soul is
Tired.
Weak.
Helpless.

The coaster stops for a moment,
Long enough for me to see,
To embrace and to enjoy,
Something beyond myself.

Footprints in the snow,
Captured on film.
Who knew looking through that small lens
Could bring about such great change
In this broken-down heart?
A moment of grace,
An evidence of charis.
There on the ground,
Where ten thousand frozen droplets of water,
Each intricately, uniquely woven,
Were met by the feet of a human.

All at once,
It seems,
I can see again.

A tree, strong and majestic;
A fire of warmth and power;
The colors of a setting sun,
Of pink and orange and beauty.
All these moments of grace;
How had I been missing them?
My roller coaster of terror
Had whispered sweet deception to me,
"Your life is useless;
The world is hopeless;
Surrender to the inevitable
Despair."

Yet,
On that day in the snow,
Where winter and wonder collided,
A far greater,
Far truer Voice
Penetrated my darkness,
"God is not dead,
Nor doth He sleep.*
Awake, Oh soul!
Awake, and sing!
Sing to the Lord,
His love pours out.
Look to Him
And find the grace
Of every moment,
Richly given."

Thus,
Though life may seem bleak
And times dark and desperate,
We do not live as those without hope.
Grace is here,
And love is here,
For He came down
To bring Shalom.


*From "Christmas Bells" by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow