Way back in the 1970s we came home from a Sunday evening service after a snowstorm sprayed our hill with glimmering icy beauty. The air was fresh and invigorating.
“Let’s go sledding!” I said as everyone got out of the car. It was a ridiculous suggestion for a mother with five children who should be getting ready for bed.
We grabbed warm clothes, sleds and hit the hill. Flakes meandered in the night sky as streetlights illuminated their descent. The white earth glowed in response.
Since I was supposed to be the grownup, I tugged sleds to the top for the smaller ones, while the children flew down the slick slope, frigid air kissing their pink cheeks and squeals of joy trailing their trip.
Even when the sleds returned to the garage and the children crawled into their toasty beds, the aroma of joy lingered about our house.
The next morning, the sun ruined the slope before we had breakfast.
I’ve learned life sometimes is like snow. Opportunities to share my love, joy, faith and abundance won’t always be there. I have to prod myself to seize the moment. Often I’ve failed, but I’ve enjoyed the wonder of grasping a tiny block of time and making good things happen I had no idea would result.
Sometimes I don’t know if anything good happened from what I shared—but I always know opportunities are like the snow. We have to get to them before they melt.
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