the smell of cold

even if we don't get snow tonight as the weatherman predicts, it smells like cold... and i adore it. it's that clean, dry briskness that keeps your nose cold and your eyes bright. tonight, the suburbs smell like burning firewood - the city smells faintly of burnt cinnamon, and this house smells like freshly made coffee. it's the type of night you really don't want to be lonely... but it's also the type of night that even if you are lonely, you almost don't care - because it feels just that wonderful outside... and all is well inside. underneath blankets and covered in prayers, i'm hoping strong for snow flurries.

- - -

for the past two days, i've been working on a project with my friend Amber, at one of my three jobs... my newest one, a ministry program here in town. our project has been to completely gut and re-organize an office/supply closet... full of arts and crafts supplies, toys, curriculum and books for students, decorations, paperwork and files, backpacks, clothes, etc etc etc... a dirty job that we are in no way close to finishing. but - i've thoroughly enjoyed using a skill set that hasn't been sharpened in quite a while. i don't know why the Lord creates certain brains to have a knack for something silly like organizing and space planning... but He does, and He has.

and it is fun... and somehow, it matters. He makes it matter.

all of it.

- - -

there is a song named "Sacred" by Caedmon's Call... and i've been listening to it on repeat today. i tried to find the song on Playlist.com so that you could listen to it while you read this, but alas - Playlist seems to be a bit out of date. here are some of the words though... how absolutely true these are.

could it be that everything is sacred?

and all this time

everything i've dreamed of

has been right before my eyes...

my cup runneth over,

and i worry about the stain...

when i forget to drink from You,

i can feel these banks harden -

Lord, make me like a stream

to feed a garden...

could it be that everything is sacred?

and all this time

everything i've dreamed of

has been right before my eyes...

- - -

often at night when i think i'm finally ready for sleep, i stumble upon a pile of thoughts left over from my day. mental lists that must be reconciled, conversations that can't help but be remembered, and whispered prayers that were all but chanted throughout my day, yet still remain unanswered... dreams and deadlines and details that must be sifted and sorted before my pillow and its softness are in any way persuasive.

and inevitably, even if i haven't done it all day long - this is when i am still.

- - -

when my world is at its smallest - underneath blankets, hoping for snow flurries, still attempting to organize all of this day's pieces... this is when my life seems at its largest - because all pretense is gone. it's just a 25 year old mortal laying down a heart, a life, and all its little details... sorting through the piles, drawing just a bit nearer to His heart before the day ends.

and every step that brought me closer to this moment - every toy that was put on a shelf today, every meaningful moment or word spoken... everything is sacred. all of it matters.

He makes it matter.

even the smell of cold.