“See, I am sending my messenger ahead of you, who will prepare your way; the voice of one crying in the wilderness:
‘Prepare the way of the Lord,
make his paths straight.’”
–The Gospel of Mark
The alarm sounds early.
Sunrise is nearly two hours away and it’s so cold outside in the darkness beyond this windowpane that even shivers are frozen solid.
Seven degrees.
Then five.
Three.
Now two.
The electric candle on the window sill shows how busy the cold had been while I slept. The storm window is filled with jagged, deliriously crooked strokes of ice that point in every direction.
Were the windowpane a compass, and were I to follow its directions, I’d be lost.
Hopelessly and forever lost.
Out beyond this pane, where I cannot see, I know that the maples and oaks are bare in the darkness, their limbs and branches holding tightly to the secret of spring as if their lives—as if the existence of everyone—depended on it.
I remember last night, standing out in the cold, filling my lungs with its freezing and the darkness with my breath.
I remember the night before and the night before that.
I remember all of the nights put together as if they were all one long, never-ending night.
I remember the stars making the night sky look like it was breaking out in a rash of ice.
And I wondered if one day I would fall through the ice into the sky.
Or somewhere else.
I sit here by the window now, looking at the stained glass cross that is hanging from the window latch; its green and orange, its yellow, blue and purple declare all that the darkness tries to hide in its cold silence.
And I know one thing for certain: when the sun rises, the light will shine toward me, into the frost and through the cross, in the straightest possible line.
With that truth deep in my heart, I suddenly see the miraculous beauty of the frost painted across my windowpane, lit up by the candlelight, the artist all around me, showing me the blooms of winter.
Ken Woodley 
Wow! I have just “discovered” your writing through Forward Day by Day. It is amazingly beautiful. And now your blog. Thank you.
Susan
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I agree with Susan…amazingly beautiful writing! I love how this post brings the physical experience of cold and dark to the connection with the Creator’s artistry in the “blooms of winter” using powerful descriptions that allow me to experience that connection and revelation.
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Thank both of you for such affirmation. Each of you blesses me,
Ken
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Your writing is beautifully deep and resonant. So glad to find you in Forward. Thanks for your gift! Sarah
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I am so glad to have you with me on this journey, Sarah, and your words resonate deeply within me,
Ken
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I’ve been reading your meditations in Forward Day by Day this month and finally looked you up on line this morning. My husband is dying of kidney cancer and the devotion for January 10 really touched me: “choose to sacrifice part of ourselves for a cause or a person we hold dear.” It is a difficult journey and writers like you help to make it a little easier. Thank you. Janice
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Dear Janice,
I am thankful that even one of my words might provide some spark of light through the difficult journey you and your husband find yourselves on. But they are not really my words. They come from the Holy Spirit through me to those for whom God and Jesus need them. Just as they have come through so many writers for so many years to all of us. I know my own journey has sent me looking for sparks of light in the words of others and I am, and have been, blessed to find them. Both of you are in my prayers. I only wish that I could do more for you,
Ken
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