white as snow

No snow today. They called for it last night; I waited up until just after midnight, when the first thin flakes drifted past the patio light. I went to bed feeling satisfied and excited. But this morning, the ground is covered with only puddles and soggy leaves.

I'm disappointed, partly because I'm itching for an excuse to make homemade hot chocolate. You know the kind I mean--it's the cocoa you can't get from a packet. It's steaming milk and melting chocolate squares, vanilla and sugar. A sip of that makes you wonder how you ever got through a mug of the other kind.

So I wish I had a good reason for setting aside my self-imposed "no sugar" rule this morning. Around our house, the first snowfall also means homemade cinnamon rolls. It would be lovely to sit by the fire today, sipping cocoa and sniffing the smell of baking cinnamon rolls while snow drifted outside my window.

But I'm disappointed by my soggy, leaf-strewn patio for another reason. Symbolically, I wanted a covering for this, the first day of a new year. I liked the idea of starting 2005 with a pristine blanket of pure white; an untouched, unsullied layer of newness. It's a new year, after all. And I'm in need of a clean slate.

New years bring spanking new calendars and hopeful resolutions and the courage to try again. Looking at the vastness of my sparkling new year, I realize all the things I might accomplish. This year, I have the potential to finish my book-in-progress and start another. I can organize my pantry if I want to, and journal faithfully, and forgive someone, and seek forgiveness. Maybe I can even forgive myself.

And I realize, too--in this pensive mood--that with or without a symbolic covering of purity today, I am covered. I'm clothed in the new-every-morning blanket of brilliant white mercy only God could offer. My sins were as scarlet, but He covered me. He has made me white as snow.

I believe I'll make that hot chocolate after all. It will be a good companion for me while I sit and contemplate forgiveness.