"Walk across the snow and there is your path." - Thomas Merton Winter covers up what had been before, giving what’s underneath a cozy blanket to break down for a while, before a new season emerges. On the top side, what we (well, those of us in places snow falls!) see is a new layer of white, a blank slate; the composting happens in the underneath, in the deeper places. How might winter be offering you a new beginning, a covering over of what-was in a way that makes it no longer accessible (which can be frustrating at first! What happened to my_____??), and through that act of obscuring invites you into a fresh new reality and the freedom to make a new way? How might you attend to both the awareness of what is lying fallow (what have you lost or let go in the past season?) while also noticing the possibility that opens up as you trek into the new, white world? Towards the end of winter, the top blanketing layer and what’s underneath start to get a bit muddled, as snow melts and muddies, and you end up with a slush of what-was and what-is. How do these images speak to you of your own inner winter seasons? Which pieces have you paid attention to? How have you felt about them? What might God be up to both in the invitation to a new path in a pristine morning of new mercies; and in your deep places?

Posted by Jamie Bonilla at 2023-03-01 14:40:55 UTC