snow globe moments

The raindrops falling outside are trying really hard to become sleet. Their efforts are pitter-pattering on the outside of the window, and I am inside these walls cheering them on. That they might amaze me and magically become snow... well, it is worth the cheering, at least. This night would befit snow.

- - -

Last week was full, in every way. Tim and I got to see both sides of our family over our Christmas holiday, and we soaked up their company like a flower soaks up rain and sunshine. We drank eggnog, ate gingerbread cookies - played boardgames, dreamed of sugarplums, and woke to surprises wrapped in paper and bows. I spent hours in my pajamas, had some life-richening conversations, went to a play with my husband, saw a movie with my family... it was the high life, and we lived it like kings and queens. I arrived back home to Nashville with blessings written as a seal over my heart.

The 'coming back home' is the easy part... but the leaving, in order to get back home, is always hard. There was one moment during the leaving that I pray will always abide in my memory.

 - - -

It was the morning after Christmas, and Tim and I had finally packed up all of our luggage and Christmas souvenirs into our faithful Toyota Camry. We were on somewhat of a time schedule, because we had to get back to Nashville in time for me to work that afternoon. The snow that had fallen throughout the night was settled over everything, and it was welcoming new snowflakes to join it as we stood there in the driveway packing up the car. There was a moment when I stood in my parents' driveway - the driveway that I parked on thousands of times through the years - and I noticed how quiet the snow had made the world. It was like nothing was changing, or had ever changed. Snowflakes were drifting down and finding their resting place on frozen ground, mailboxes, telephone lines, and trees... I was moved. To my recollection, I have never felt like I was in a snow globe before, or imagined what it would be like - but in that moment, I knew. I knew there was a world going on somewhere outside of that moment, and there was ultimately going to be some kind of 'shaking up' of things in just a minute or two... but for the moment, I was caught in a snow globe and I felt safe in the quiet of it all. I acknowledged God in that moment, and it made me feel safe.

Five minutes later, it was time to say goodbye to my mother. There she stood in the doorway, with her bright eyes and brave smile - and I could not stop hugging her. All choked up, voice higher than normal, trying to be brave just like her... my husband and I walked out the front door and got into our pre-heated car (thanks to him). We turned on our Christmas music, fastened our seatbelts, and slowly but resolutely backed out of the driveway.

... Are there any words?

The safety I felt less than five minutes before was challenged, threatened, bullied, and defeated. All I could think about is how no one should ever have to say goodbye to their mother on the morning after Christmas, when snow is falling, and there is a driveway to back out of, and a corner to turn onto, erasing the sight of their mother standing in the doorway waving. No one should have to go through that moment... but I was, and I did, and I will remember it for the rest of my days.

Tim and I turned the corner, off of my family's street, out of my family's neighborhood... and I reached for his hand like a lifeline. Bravery fissured, perspective crumbled, and tears began to fall like snow. For about ten seconds, I felt lost. Even with my husband's hand in mine, returning to the blessings of our home, with a job to go to and work to be done... for just a minute, the snow globe was shaken. I felt like I was five again, and I had just woken up into a strange new world. I missed the home I grew up in, the parents that used to wake me and tuck me in, the brother that shared his heart with me, and just the general 'way things used to be'. I mourned freshly and quickly the passing of my adolescence and the oncoming of adult responsibility. Lost, lost, lost... stuck in a shaken snow globe. My soul scrambled to find a prayer to pray, and I will always remember what it found.

God. God of the universe... I am a girl inside a snow globe that just got shaken. I feel stuck and lost, both at the same time, because I just turned the corner and I can't go back and I can't see ahead either. I'm shaken, it's all shaken, and I'm shaking. But somehow... I remember a promise of You, and it falls softly onto my heart like snow falling. That You are outside. You are above and beyond all of this. All of these goodbyes on this earth, that never seem to end - this unnecessary heartache that leaves my world feeling like its being undone... I remember a promise of You. You hold this snow globe in Your hands. Okay... so steady me... steady me... steady me. 

Steady me. 

- - - 

By the time another five minutes had gone by, Tim and I were in the Starbucks drive-thru getting our coffee, and I had wiped the tears off my face again. I had mustered up some courage, had gotten out my book to read while Tim listened to the radio, and we got back home to Nashville safe, and warm, and sound...

But those few minutes of leaving have remained vividly in my memory, and I pray that I don't ever forget them. That I don't ever fail to remember how quickly a world can be shaken up, and Who I pray to when it gets shaken. That I don't ever belittle those moments standing in the driveway when His voice whispers to me, or forget the balm that His promises are to my heart when it knows loss. Promises that He holds all of this - all of me - all of this snow globe world, and all of its snow globe moments in His hands.