Caesura: in music – a pause or breathing at a point of rhythmic division in a melody.
Saturday: in my week – a pause or breathing point after the rhythms of work
Another snow storm blew through this week. Apparently it’s a northern prairie habit. However, the aftermath of this particular storm was not smothering and smeared with ominous grey. Rather than slithering in, the wind-turned-artist masterfully sculpted undulating white waves across vacant fields, carved flying buttresses into road-side ditches. Foot-deep feathery flakes snuggled comfortably around tree trunks and spindly shrubs. Snow can be strikingly beautiful.
What really stood out to me as I began my hopefully-NOT-habit-forming chore of shovelling decks, was the fact that everything – fence posts, bird feeders, tree branches, flower remnants – was wearing a crown. Tall, narrow, fat, lopsided, stick-thin – all shapes and sizes, but every crown a made-to-order fit. And all in elegant designer white. How like the King of Glory to leave His fingerprint in our world.
If God can use the weather to craft reminders of His glory, how much more can He use us, the crowning work of His creation…
After reading my thoughts about what made me pause last week, a friend shared with me how it had resonated with her spirit. So she stepped out of pause and into play by deciding to donate to an organization that works to end the exploitation and trafficking of human lives. Her daughter, a university student, is matching the donation. I was humbled and challenged by their response: humbled that my pause stirred someone else, and challenged because maybe I found it easier to stay paused than to push play.
I’m grateful for their action; it will leave a fingerprint of compassion and love and grace in a world in need of all three. Soli Deo
