Winter Storm

My mother has written many poems that have been published. I remember seeing little slips of paper here and there with words sprawled across them. She'd get thoughts in the middle of the night and write them down. I think she even wrote on her sheets. I know she doodled on them.

The following poem was published in the magazine 'Purpose' in December of 1980. My father was proud of this poem. I put it on face book the other day and my cousin who is about 2 years older than me commented. He is a pastor of a church in Pa. This is what he said. "Such beautiful words from my dear Aunt Beulah. To me, she was always creative, interesting, deeply spiritual, intelligent, and so loving to all. May our gracious Lord bless her these days. (Thanks for sharing, Annette.)" He is a gentle and kind giant of a man; over 6'3" I'm sure. We were in the youth group together and we liked to sing around the piano with the others. I can still hear his beautiful tenor voice. I wrote his words down and sent them to my mother and as always, she felt unworthy of such praise, but it meant a great deal to her.

Now to the poem.

Winter Storm

Soft snow sifted soundlessly
Through sodden starless skies
While winter winds waited till the
whiteness was wide and deep.
Then blew boisterously
Billowing into beauty
Boulders
That blotted out old ruts and
scars.

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I've always liked this poem
but understand its meaning in a deeper way
as I see how the snow's whiteness
changed our charred shop remains
into a place of beauty and enchantment.
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I am thankful that God turns the ruins of our lives
into realms of delight after He washes
us and makes us 'whiter than snow.'