The cold has finally descended on Minnesota. There is not much snow to speak of but the temperatures have conspired to remind us where we live and what we are made of. This morning as I walked out to roll the garbage can to the curb for its pickup later today, I had that feeling of my airways freezing that I have yet to experience this winter. I smiled as much as my frozen cheek muscles would allow. So, I suppose it is time to settle in and remember the gifts of cold, frosty winter life.

Yesterday morning at our house we were offered just such a gift. As we were busy getting ready for a full day ahead, my husband paused on the landing of our upstairs hallway. “Did you see this?”, he asked. Unsure of what he was talking about I walked the few steps into the hallway to catch a glimpse. He was standing by the window that is directly at the top of the stairs. The window glass, itself a kind of victim of winter’s harsh winds, was swathed in what at first glance looked like lace. It was so incredibly beautiful and intricate we both just stood there taking in this gift of winter. Its patterns seemed impossible. How could something so beautiful be created without intention?

Now there was a question to carry around for the day! I have no idea how ice crystals or patterns form. Whatever Science class I took back in the day that explained this probably went right over my head. I was busy anticipating English class or choir. Yesterday morning I regretted my single mindedness wishing I understood how the combination of water, condensation, cold air and sun could create such an amazing pattern, such a work of art.

You see, the pattern not only looked like lace but also like a tree. A tree in the forest of the Winter Queen. The patterns had formed as if painted on the glass with some unseen hand who knew just what we needed to wake us up on a frigid morning. Just what we needed to send us out into the world with praise on our lips and awe in our hearts. Just what we needed to remind us that there is a creative Hand in the world that is not ours.

Later in the day I thought of all the other patterns in this wide and wonderful world that may seem to be without intention. The center of a tulip for instance as it breaks forth in fireworks or a newborn’s feathery eyelashes. The way in which the sun can reflect off one of the cut glass ornaments I keep hanging on a curtain in our living room, creating tiny rainbows all over the walls just as the sun is setting each day. The rivulets of water that spin and then spiral over the rocks in a stream.

It is easy for me to get caught up in the things I can understand and make sense of in some ordered way. But every now and then it is good to have a wake up call that reminds me of all the wonders I cannot, and will never be able to understand. That is where awe walks in to take up residence and I am once again reminded of being a tiny part of a Universe that continues to expand and amaze. In that instant I am reminded of my work here: To stay awake. To notice. To be amazed. To tell the story. To be filled with gratitude.

There are many experiences that can remind us of the treasures of winter. For those of you reading this who are also experiencing the first, true rush of freezing temperatures, my hope and prayer is that you are offered a gift of winter this day. Keep your eyes and heart open for the lace that is being spun all around. If we have eyes to see.