Magical Flurries

Wondrous eyes peer into the glass orb, longing to exist within it. Iridescent dust floats through a world only habitable by childlike imaginations. They’ve always captivated mine. Snow globes blend relevant truth with magical shimmers. The scenes tug at my spirit, and a yearning for snowflakes bursts forth.

I pulled up a recipe for snowflake cookies, desperate to unleash flurries inside my home. What draws me to these crystalline droplets, and why do they seem to perfect the Christmas season?

Unique. Despite tons upon thousands of tons flurried over the face of the earth, each snowflake differs from its sisters. Composed of the same matter, snow’s strength lies in its alignment. Its brilliant artistry shimmers from idiosyncrasies. Snowflakes remind us of our individual significance in the eyes of our Creator. He loves us all and gathers us together. At the same time, He loves us each. Christ laid Himself in a manger to rescue mankind, and continues to reach out with nail-scarred hands to redeem each man.

White. Every snowflake remains pure until it touches the earth. We yearn for freedom from sin, for the purity and levity to exist as those created of living water adrift on the breath of God. Christmas brings us hope for free, abundant life as our Creator intended.

Heavenly. Beauty raining down from the skies reflects the love showered upon us in the nativity. Our Father adored us with unbridled passion. Angelic visitations, divine choirs, and unprecedented starlight provided a backdrop for the generous gift of Christ. Who loves us so much that He would not even withhold His only Son? No one but God would love with such extravagance.

Refreshing.  Light snowfall tucks the dreary earth under a blanket. Though cool, it insulates those beneath it. Muddy tracks vanish, and the world appears as a whitened landscape. Christmas offers a time of renewal. The Prince of Peace refreshes those who snuggle into His arms.

Although I live in the tropics, I’m thankful for His snowstorms over me this Christmas. More glorious than any fantasy’s magic, I’m filled with wonder at the flurries before my eyes. Anybody else want cookies with that?

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