Snow and Spring

I read about half of John 20 to the kids after breakfast. Lukas said, "It's the Easter story."
Outside snow is falling, though two days ago we danced across the yard, dazzled by light and warmth. Will spring ever come?
How dark, gray, cold, and dirty my life often feels. Small. Pointless. I sweep, wash dishes, do laundry, pick up books and toys and coats, again and again and again. I make the same meals over and over. It's so monotonous, so seemingly pointless. I grump and groan in my mind. I want an escape.
Last night we swam in cool chlorine-scented waters and saw a member of our church family, a fellow respite seeker, season defier. And then we opened the door to leave and were hit by blasts of cold air freezing the damp still in our hair and on our bodies.
We can go inside. We can pretend the snow isn't there. We can shut ourselves off from it and dream of spring.
The snow is beautiful, blinding white, falling straight from heaven again and again. It is soiled, spoiled and then becomes new again, as more falls.
It can penetrate to the bones, make me shiver uncontrollably.
But it is not forever. Spring will come. New life will rise.
In the meantime, I do not want to miss any of it. God is here too. He is continually covering my dirt. He warms me from within even when it isn't warm without.
He died that I might live. He is alive.