I May Bend, I Will Not Break

Early this morning, I awakened to peek into the stillness of ice crystals forming on the ground as freezing temperatures chased away yesterday's unseasonably warm weather. Snow fell quickly as light worked unsuccessfully to fall through the clouds. The scene was beautiful. The change was beautiful. The frosty white appearance of snow adhering to the ground, so beautiful. It encouraged me, that while the world seemingly is so cold and hardened, and threatening to freeze the very warmth of my spirit, it is, in reality, insulating, covering, and hydrating my being. 

I noticed how the grass fell over sideways, bending deeply toward the ground under the weight of this seasonal change. Snow is not uncommon in February, just as my trials are not uncommon to man. I couldn't help but notice how the curve and crystallizing of the grasses blades were actually quite lovely, and it took this temporary weight to cover it in it's refreshing. 

I may feel frozen in this life, the way it is weighing me down in seeming cold and unforgiving winter. I am bent over, and weary. Light breaking through the clouds is hidden behind the storm. But light is still present. 

I am not broken. Bent? Yes. Being re-shapen, even mis-shapen, under the weight of this season. But not broken. The wind will come and drive the chaff from me. The sun will come and my blades will spring to life with deep roots and growth arising from my wintery slumber. 

I may bend, I may even be stretched to the point of touching the very ground, but I will not break.