It's a snow globe morning. It wasn't supposed to snow today, (or Wednesday, for that matter) but it is. I don't have to drive anywhere today, though, so I am not too concerned. I'm sitting in the coffee shop in a nice squishy chair near a warm fire with a mocha, watching the snow swirl out the large windows. There is something mesmerizing about watching the snow fall, floating and swirling and drifting. The view I have now, with some trees and the house across the street, makes me think this must be what it's like to live in a snow globe.
I'm reading over my sermon, getting ready for Christmas worship, and enjoying a calm morning where things seem okay. It isn't supposed to be a white Christmas, but I've never had one before so that's okay. My sermon is about light, the light of the world that has overcome darkness. I kind of like it. I often like to wander in darkness for a while, ending up there before I realize it. I find it comforting to know that the darkness does not win, that the light has overcome and come to dwell with us and give us his light.
I like this quote by Anne Lamott: "Hope begins in the dark, the stubborn hope that if you just show up and try to do the right thing, the dawn will come. You wait and watch and work: you don't give up."
Sometimes you wonder, while in the darkness, if the dawn really exists anymore. I've heard it's always darkest before the dawn. Maybe that's partly true just because of the contrast the dawn brings. Either way, the light that created light took on our darkness and took away its power, and the light and life it has given cannot be taken away.
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