Like a crust of bread that has been around too long, life can seem stale. Too long locked in, windows shut against the cold, enticing children through the day, trying to keep in touch with relatives, watching the impact on nations, beamed to our screens. The anxiety is there beneath the surface undermining my enthusiasm about plans and new ideas.
I went for a long walk to the woods. There had been thick fog in the night, and temperatures and several degrees of frost. The tops of the trees were coated with hoarfrost, beautiful as it sparkled in pale sunlight. My sluggish limbs stretched, my aching head cleared, and I started to see the beauty around me. The day warmed and I shed my scarf and gloves. There was a tinkling sound and I saw the dog flinch as something hit his face. On the ground ahead were perfectly shaped daggers of hoar frost. The trees were thawing and the frost was sliding. Jagged crystals of ice were dropping around us. It was magical, new, something I had not seen before, though I have walked these woods for many years. I felt awed out of fretfulness. Creator God had broken through and spoken in a new way.
There is deep sorrow as we see nations falter. The struggle in less reported parts of the world like South Sudan or Yemen, yet to be assessed. It brings a pain like the sharp ends of the frost daggers, yet there is beauty in lament. The thaw will come.
This post was written in response to the fiveminutefriday prompt, which was FRESH this