Yes, I am twenty-two years old, and have never had a real snow day before. When you are homeschooled, it doesn't matter if all of Siberia dumps itself outside your window. In fact, copious amounts of snow only serve as affirmation that you will definitely be staying inside and doing school. I am now a working lady, so today my beloved school was snowed in, and I was as giddy as one of our kindergartners, running around in my pajamas, singing "snow day!", and drinking too much coffee.
As I watched the snow stick to my window, I got a beautiful close-up view of one of the most cliche yet astounding facts of nature: no two snowflakes are alike. We love to talk about that with children because they are enamored with snow anyways, and its easy to draw the parallel that they are different and unique like snowflakes. Grownups talk about it occasionally because it is a great example of diversity, and grownups love to talk about diversity. Both are wonderful philosophical discussions, but have you ever stopped to think about snowflakes in a technical sense?
Grab a sheet of paper. Draw a star. Now a draw a different star. Now draw a star that's different from that. How long do you think you could keep going? I could probably get to twenty, and then I'd find something more interesting to do. Now look outside (or look up a picture of a snow covered hill). There are more than twenty snowflakes, aren't there? There are thousands, hundreds of thousands, millions of tiny crystalline stars. Also, consider that there have been gazillions of snowflakes throughout history, tens of thousands of snowstorms loaded with snowflakes, and not one of them is the same as the other.
My mind is blown. If you aren't impressed yet, check your pulse, and then look at these images.
What kind of God takes the time to design billions of crystal ice flowers, and has the passionate imagination to ensure that not one of them is the same? Who does that? Luke 12:7 reads that "Indeed! The very hairs of your head are all numbered!" Do you know how many hairs you have on your head? How many hairs you lose daily? Would you care to seek out those numbers for a population of 6 billion people, and then do that for all of human history? Again, I ask: Who does that, and why?
This month I'm writing about love in all its various forms. Maybe I'm being picky, but I believe we have put love in too small a box. It's not just for couples, dumb chick movies, and Jane Austen novels; it is infinitely more.
True love comes from the kind of heart that desires to know us intimately.
It's the love that pursues, and wants to know our fears and our deepest pain, but seeks to give us only the best and most beautiful.
It's love that watches our eyes open each day, and is flooded with love even knowing that we will betray and break His heart that day, and everyday.
It's the kind of love that delights in astounding our eyes and setting our hearts on fire.
Its love that won't let us stagnate in our silliness and immaturity, but lovingly goads us on through rough patches and learning experiences.
It's the kind of love that makes the fluffy tails on squirrels, and eyes of all colors, and dimples, and clam shells, and raspberry seeds, and laughter!
It's love that dies for the condemned beloved, because He'd rather die than be separated from us for eternity.
It's love that counts the hairs on our head. It's love that crafts snowflakes.
I'm sorry, but nothing human can compare with this. This love is different. It is intimate on a scale we cannot understand. Jeremiah 1:4-5 reads “The word of the LORD came to me, saying, “Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I set you apart.”
You have been set apart. You are the only soul that is you-shaped that will ever exist on this earth, and you were passionately crafted by the only One who will ever truly, unconditionally, perfectly love you for you.
LOVE
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