Woke up to snow this morning, and lots of it. And it is BEAUTIFUL–probably because I don’t have to go anywhere. My office is right here at home, one of the many things I love about my job. We’ve had at least six inches overnight, and it’s still coming down in small, fast, furious flakes. This morning, while doing my devotions, I noticed one of the plant pots on the deck–it has a lovely dome of snow on top, and that got me to thinking–again–about the bulbs actively slumbering under all that cold and wet and plain old dirt. I describe the process as active because, of course, there is God-magic happening inside that humble and normally unprepossessing bulb, life and color and scent in their essential forms, being spun, like Rapunzel’s straw, into future joy. Glorious beauty.
I believe the human heart is like that plant pot, too. Dreams get planted, and they slumber away (okay, sometimes it seems more like a coma), under a lot of dirt and wet snow and cold–read: discouragement, disappointment, frustration–the question, then, is do we stop believing in Spring and Summer? Or do we shelter those dreams, nourish them as best we can, and most importantly of all, BELIEVE that not just some, but MOST, such processes are silent and invisible?
I have had many dreams in my life, and I’ve been blessed to see a lot of them come true. But there are others, planted deep, that have yet to sprout. It would be easy to slide them over into the ‘never-gonna-happen’ column–and with some dreams, say, if I decided I wanted to be a top model (just the thought makes me smile) or an astronaut or a daredevil who leaps over buildings on a motor cycle, certainly BELONG in that column. But there are other, gentler hopes, secret and sacred, just between God and me. Giving up on those would be like giving up on God–and myself. Not gonna happen. The bulbs are down there, in the rich and fertile soil of my heart, and one day, they will bloom. Or turn into something better and more beautiful than I could have imagined.
As you can tell, I’m in a pretty philosophical mood this morning. 🙂
On the practical side, lots of you are entering the What-Did-Sam-Write contest, and that delights me. The winner will be announced on Wednesday, so be sure to have your answer in by then. As previously mentioned, we’ll put the names of all those who give the correct answer into a bowl and draw out a lucky winner.
I received three beautiful bracelets from my artist sister, Pam, and watch this space, because I will be giving them away, one a week, starting when the current contest ends. Excited? You should be–these pieces are so lovely I’m going to have a hard time parting with them. 🙂 Sister Sally’s arm warmers will be offered as prizes soon as well, and I have some great trinkets I brought back from Cowboy Christmas, in Las Vegas. So stay tuned, and if you don’t win at first, keep trying. This cowgirl loves to give things away!
Lastly, I want to thank you for your very moving comments about “Big Sky River”. Boone and Tara and the others are as dear to me as grown children. In fact, I keep expecting them to come home for a visit. 🙂 Your kind words mean so much.
May God make His face to shine upon you and be gracious unto you.
And please accept my virtual hug.
About Linda
The daughter of a town marshal, Linda Lael Miller is a #1 New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author of more than 100 historical and contemporary novels, most of which reflect her love of the West.
Raised in Northport, Washington, Linda pursued her wanderlust, living in London and Arizona and traveling the world before returning to the state of her birth to settle down on a horse property outside Spokane.
