Snowflakes. They're dressed as water in the most formal of fashions. Packed together like punchy ruffles. Shimmering like frozen rhinestones all around, too. Existing all for the purpose of the singular, yet bringing blankets of winter to the world as one. Deliberate in purpose. Intentional by design. Locking the earth in a suspension quite like a dancing ballroom dazzling with sparkles radiantly festive. Refreshed by the bitterness of the band as it plays, snowflakes glisten out God's holy plan for the very reasons they fall. Cascading across the dance floor with gleeful notions of sheer delight as the spitter from the bright gray skies. Their beauty lies both in their icy singular just as much their compacted plural. Very much are we His snowflakes when we concentrate on our callings and dance.
Have you ever really considered the intricacy of an ice crystal? Its minute punch of molecules are distinct. Original is just exactly how a snowflake serves our wintery world. And if you want honesty, I am the first to forget, moreover forego, this notion of me. All too often and in the slightest of subtleties, I find myself discrediting my design. It's never a grandiose affair or really even on display, but I doubt. I dull the sparkle that only I can transcend.
Me. Just me.And you. Just you. We are all called. Summoned to proclaim life and shine. And that very glow dims every moment we spend sidling up to the next snowflake to see just what she's wearing. We do this internally so very well. Behind social eyes, we allow comparisons to dwell within us. Sauntering back & forth, our minds fill with second bestedness. With less. With manipulations that contaminate our unique, too.
When we neglect to concentrate on our callings we lose sight of the vivid spectrum, this magnificent refraction of light, that can happen when snowflakes show up uniquely to dazzle and collectively to dance.
It's important for me not to miss that. You either for that matter. It's not our place to show up just to shimmer out someone else's beauty. No, we are to live outward in our own reflections of Him. And that only happens when we concentrate on our callings.
It is only then that the dance floor becomes endless and the ball gowns most divine. And the people around us, especially our children, will feel that much more inspired to get up only to glide-step to their own beautiful rhythm. With gleeful notions of sheer delight we all spitter from the bright gray skies. Yes, beauty lies both in our icy singular as well as our compacted plural. Like snowflakes, let's all fall.