Flurries of Grace

Sitting in the warmth, watching the snow fall, is one of the most beautiful experiences. I like to imagine that it’s dust from the wings of angels who are dancing on the clouds, falling to blanket the sleeping earth. So gentle, so frail, so beautiful, falling in torrents with only a sort of wispy whisper, like a breeze in a vacuum of sound. They seem to continue the dance of the angels as they swirl and spiral in a kind of waltz to the ground.

I like to walk outside and let the snowflakes alight on my face, my hands, my whole self. You can barely feel it at first, little pinpoints of sudden chill that just melt into healing drops of dew all over you. The more they come, the colder you get, the more the flakes begin to feel like pinpricks, but you stop caring so much about that and all you can think of is how good it feels and how at peace and yet alive you are in that moment. Soon the cold just fades from your mind, and all you can think is how beautiful life.

Somehow, the deepest and most meaningful moments of consolation are the little moments of silence, mere presence, tiny acts of kindness and caring; the kind of moments that fall like little snowflakes to rest gently on your heart and remind you you’re held in the arms of One Who loves you more than you could possibly fathom; the moments of grace brought both by Christ’s own wounded hands directly to your soul and by those who already swim in the ocean of His love and mercy. Even if at the moment you want none of it, if the bright little points of light blind your eyes so accustomed to darkness, the moment you let them break through and allow yourself a little pain, a little humility, the drops of healing light begin to penetrate faster and faster til they flood your soul.

Countless are the times I have cried out for an ocean of healing to envelope me and been answered by a gradual flurry of graces of this kind. God, in His wisdom, knew these are still more precious.

To live for a time with a lighter burden and easier road to walk on my journey to Paradise has been beautiful beyond compare, thanks to these graces brought both directly by God and through dear friends. Yet I know, looking around me, that this season is not for myself to bask in.

There is a great song by Hillsong called “Desert Song” which was my prayer in my most recent walk through the dark. It ends with the following lyrics:

This is my prayer in the harvest,
When favor and providence flow:
I know I’m filled to be emptied again.
The seed I’ve received I will sow.

We are not the sole sufferers on this planet. All around us, everyone we know or meet–loved ones, friends, co-workers, even total strangers–all ache as they walk the rocky road of reality. When we are given the grace to walk tall, strong, and joyful, it is not for us to strut along in the rays of the sun. It is God’s gift to us so that we may walk confidently into the dark valleys of those around us and lift them with us into the light.

Don’t get me wrong–you should enjoy these times and give thanks to God for them with all your heart. Goodness knows I have. They’re gifts, and we should rejoice in them.

But think a moment of those who helped bring you these times by cooperating with the loving work of God. Think of how much it meant when the little graces they helped give to you fell gently and rested like little points of light on your heart, like a gentle snowfall that came to cascade in an avalanche on your broken soul. Can you deny to others the same graces that God has given you the gift to bestow?

Yes, brethren, it is indeed a sacrifice. But it is a sacrifice made in love, a sacrifice that can bring great grace and healing by the power of God, a sacrifice that distantly echoes the ultimate sacrifice of Christ on the cross and brings joy to the heart of God.

This is my longing, my passion: to touch the lives of others, to work miracles by letting go of myself and letting God work through me in others, to give unto others a little snowfall on the fainting earth of their souls, bringing a breath of relief to their weary hearts.

Were it in my power, I would release the blizzard of Christ’s passionate love in the lives of others; as it is, I will bring them flurries and point them to the promise of an avalanche of peace.

Posted on February 28, 2013, in Insights and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 3 Comments.

  1. Well said, particularly the final paragraph. It is a concrete insight into something I’ve been wondering just what to do with. Thanks mate.

  2. Glad something I said was helpful. Praise God!

  3. This is gorgeous, bro! I love it!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

The Window Philosopher

Reflections from the edge of adulthood.

dum spiro, spero.

public notes to myself for the benefit of many

A Tangled Mass

"I am a little pencil in the hand of a writing God, who is sending a love letter to the world." - Bl. Mother Teresa

The Soul of Rock n' Roll

Rebelling against going with the flow...Tradition, novelty, and classical wisdom with a dose of all things Rock!

Bob Rice

Catholic speaker, musician, author, teacher

Not the Ends

when i can't keep my thoughts inside my head

Behold Your Beauty

finding beauty in every day life

Earnest Attempts

Just a young Catholic poet wanting to share his perspectives with the world.

Armads and Elendil

“I do not love the bright sword for its sharpness, nor the arrow for its swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory. I love only that which they defend.” ~J.R.R. Tolkien

Eärendil Star

One blog to rule them all. One blog to find them. One blog to bring them all, and in the light, bind them.

The Cultured Catholic

In the world, but not of the world. Cultured, yet counter-cultural. The Christian paradox.

Prayers and Promises

Finding Hope in This Crazy World

%d bloggers like this: