Cold Winter's night

Most of our day was filled trying to occupy our little snow angels, who made countless trips in and out of the house to find things to do in the snow. I started to sense that even in the midst of the glorious family time, God was calling me to some time apart to listen. So much of our lives are spent tending to this, watching that, investigating this, trying to plan that, that even on 'family days' we can be out of balance. After a full day of sledding and drying jackets and gloves, after some time in front of the TV, after my wife turned in because she was wiped out herself, I did the dishes, and then took the trash can to the curb (actually in error - I was a day early). But as I stepped out onto the porch, i gazed up at a peaceful, crystal clear sky. It had been so long since I just stopped and sat and gazed at creation, I decided the time was right.
I got out my warmest sleeping bag and put a couple of camping sleeping pads down on my snow-covered deck, and climbed into my goose-down coccoon, pulling the draw cords on the bag to a small circle around my face. The moon was so bright that I almost needed to shield my eyes. The air in my lungs was cold, but the sleeping bag did the trick and kept me warm.

I tried to stop, to pause, to rest, to pray. To bask in God's beautiful creation. I thought about people who had no choice but to sleep outside, and how blessed we are to have a warm house. I thought about how big the universe is, and how small we are. What I was mostly aware of, however, was how little time I spend in quiet stillness. I don't think I made it all the way through a single hymn without having my thoughts drift off on some tangent.

In the end, I got cold. I was continually shifting in the sleeping bag, trying to find a warm position. I finally gave up, when my feet got cold and in the constraints of the sleeping bag I couldn't get my socks back on. I went inside at about 5am, not having slept a wink, and crawled into bed next to my wife. I suppose it was a vigil of sorts, a reminder that prayer is hard - even in utter silence and alone-ness. God used the day without church to call me back to relationship; he used a time without interruption to remind me of how many interruptions I put in our way; he used the middle of a cold night to remind me of how cold the heart can grow without his presence. I'm ready to be warm again.

Ed