The Sounds of a Cold Morning

Have you ever really listened to a cold morning? Not a 20 or 30 degree morning, but a single digit or sub-zero cold morning? Have you heard the sound of the air, the rush of the wind, the beating of a bird's wings, the chatter of a squirrel, the bark of a dog, the mooing of a cow, the crunch of your footsteps, the sound of another person's voice, or even the enormity of the silence in the profound absence of heat? It is an incredible experience if for no other reason than the clarity of tonality which becomes apparent in the chill of the Winter.

I am not a fan of cold temperatures, but Winter provides our senses its own share of powerful wonder: the sound of an ice skate's blade on smooth pond ice, the slickness of a sled's runners as it courses down a hill, the quacking of a pair of ducks as they pass over their favorite haunt now frozen and inaccessible to them, the beating of mourning dove wings as they settle into a spot for feeding, the laughter of children heaving snow balls at each other, the solitude of fields laying quiet as they rest from a hard year's production, and haunting reverberations of a coyote's howl piercing a dark night's soul. All are part and parcel of this gift God's gives in the season we come to know as Winter. Each adds its music to the cacaphony of instrumentation which becomes the symphony of the 'Midwinter's Night Dream'. Each is cued into the composition at the direction of the Maestro's baton flicking gracefully from one to the other. Each bears a witness to the fullness of the Composer's imagination and joy. Each is a stark celebration of what Winter is unveiling for listening ears and open hearts to receive. Each is its own forethought of the One who breathed them into being and, here, commands their music to fill creation.

Now, I will grant you, much of this seems rather 'romanticized' in world often filled more with the sounds of guns cracking and spirits breaking, of blood flowing and war raging, of hatred spewing and discrimination oozing, of justice distorted and greed rewarded, yet, maybe the issue isn't with what our ears seem always to hear, but rather to Whom we are willing to give our attention. For this day, this cold Winter's day in January, I lean my ears towards God and listen for what God would have me to hear of God's capacity to give life. Call it what you may, I call the sounds of a cold morning the music of Peace . . . and pray from their concert I will be given the heart to become a peacemaker.

Your servant in Christ,

Pastor Don