Nothing like April snow to shake things up a bit. A stiff north wind last night plastered the north side of every fence, street sign and stoplight with heavy wet snow. It's quite a sight.
This morning in our staff devotions a writer referred to the winter landscape as a "pall," which at first struck me as a rather pejorative term for the beauty out our window. But then again, a pall is a reminder of baptism, the whiteness which covers the signs of death and calls us to remember that death does not have the final say.
Given the dry years we've often had lately, this whiteness is its own baptismal reminder that we need some rain -- or snow -- to fall in order for new life to appear. The waters above are now waters all around us. It's beautiful (and, this time, it won't last long).
