<\/p>\n
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Like a Dove in the Snow<\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n I think that this time of year when darkness comes early and the nights are cold is a thoughtful time. I look out my window and see the endless white of a fresh blanket of snow. This cold, bitter time of year is a time of reflection. <\/span><\/p>\n The stark, bare, brittle branches reaching up in their yearning for the sun, a sun now hidden behind gray, sullen clouds, rattling in the endless frigid winter wind, creates a forlorn cacophony. It is a sad discordant symphony, background music to the throes of winter and the death all around.<\/span><\/p>\n And, at this time of year, I find myself more pensive, more introspective, and maybe more thoughtful too\u2013 although not in the sense that one would normally use that word. When I say \u201cthoughtful\u201d I mean in the sense that I think about things more, read more, ponder more, explore my inner-self more.<\/span><\/p>\n Recently it occurred to me that the things that mean the most in life are the things we take for granted, the things that are hardest to see. Things like the changes in your friends, your children, your spouse, yourself \u2014 none of us stay the same. We age, and though we fight mightily against it, age takes its toll on us all. You can mask it with makeup, facelifts, and trendy clothing. You can run away from it as fast as you want, but it will catch you… sooner or later. You can run but you cannot hide.<\/span><\/p>\n If you have been lucky enough to have children, have you ever noticed that when they grow up, in your mind you see them as they were and not as they are? You see them as children even though they’ve grown up. We don\u2019t want to see how things are, because that would remind us of our own mortality. The older our children or our friends or our spouses become, the older we realize we are.<\/span><\/p>\n So, we see only what we want to see and disregard the rest. It\u2019s just too painful to see things any other way. We don\u2019t want to see things the way they really are \u2014 our children can never be toddlers again, we can never be young again, our friends drift away or change until they are not friends anymore, and we\u2019re all going to die… someday. And who wants to dwell on that?<\/span><\/p>\n But getting old is part of life. We all get old. We all die and we have to \u2013 to clear the way for the new. I\u2019m not so sure I\u2019d want to live forever even if I could. As long as I can think clearly and get around fairly well and learn something new each day, of course, I\u2019d love to live a long time. But at some point, the body starts breaking down and then the brain. I don\u2019t think I\u2019d want to have a wonderfully functioning brain locked in a body that has withered and becomes beyond my control.<\/span><\/p>\n The best thing about getting older is getting wiser\u2013 most of us, anyway. I think I feared death more when I was a young man, more than I do now. I thought a lot about death when I was young, I think because I lost my mother when I was young. And then I became extremely close to my grandfather, and he passed away when I was a young man. And since then, death has frequented my life often. I worried about dying a lot before I turned 30, but now the older I get, the less I fear it. In my youth, everything was new and exciting, but now there are not many experiences that are, so not much excites me.<\/span><\/p>\n Some things are as hard to see as a dove in the snow\u2026but they are there all the same.<\/span><\/p>\n By now, you\u2019re thinking I\u2019m a boring, crusty, melancholy, old curmudgeon, don\u2019t you? Maybe you\u2019re right, maybe I am. And that\u2019s fine with me. Most people don\u2019t understand this, but it is true nonetheless \u2013 it makes no difference at all what others think about you — it only matters what you think about yourself.<\/span><\/p>\n This too is as hard to see as a dove in the snow.<\/span><\/p>\n Look around and you\u2019ll see many things pretending to be love \u2014 but love is very hard to see. One of the most misused words in the world is \u201clove\u201d. The words \u201cI love you\u201d roll off the tongues of so true of so many but it\u2019s not you who they love \u2013 it\u2019s themselves they love. Love is one of the hardest things to find because there are so many things masquerading as love \u2014 but they are all impostors A dear friend of mine sent me a wonderful essay the other day, and I\u2019d like to share a tiny part of that essay with you:<\/span><\/p>\n \u201c\u2026marriage (and true love) is never about you. It\u2019s about the person you love\u2014their wants, their needs, their hopes, and their dreams. Selfishness demands, \u201cWhat\u2019s in it for me?\u201d, while Love asks, \u2018What can I give?\u2019\u2026\u201d (Read the entire essay here<\/a>. )<\/span><\/p><\/blockquote>\n So while the word \u201clove\u201d is ubiquitous, real love is as rare and as hard to see… as a dove in the snow.<\/span><\/p>\n The wind blows and it too is like a dove in the snow \u2014 you can\u2019t see it unless you look very hard for it. And if you do look hard, you\u2019ll see it, you\u2019ll see it in every blade of grass, in the gentle sway of the trees, the drifting of the clouds in the sky.\u00a0 The wind makes the whole world alive. The wind can also kill and destroy. But you can see the wind, the wind the gentle caressing wind that blows as softly as a baby\u2019s breath. You can see the evil wind that plunders and destroys. <\/span><\/p>\n The wind is gentle. The wind is powerful. You can’t see it unless you look. The wind is as hard to see as a dove in the snow.<\/span><\/p>\n And so it is with all of the most important things in life\u2026 they are all as difficult to see as a dove in the snow. You can\u2019t glance at life \u2013 if you do, you\u2019ll only see what the world wants you to see… the glitter, and the glowing and the fake.\u00a0 You\u2019ll never see the important things, the truth, and the things that really matter, the things that make a difference unless you take the time to look very hard for them. The world has many disguises. The truth is as hard to see as a dove in the snow.<\/span><\/p>\n And sometimes what you see only exists in your thoughts \u2014 but if they are true then they are as real as if they were standing right in front of you. You see your children as they were when they were young \u2014 they will always live from microsecond to microsecond in your mind. Though they are grown you can still see your kids building snowmen, opening Christmas presents, playing ball, they are dancing in your thoughts and living in your heart.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n The same is true of our friendships and those we care for and love. Time will take its toll. We may grow old but if we keep our thoughts young and look beneath the shiny superficial facade, everything is as new and young, and as fresh as it ever was. But I know, it\u2019s not easy to do when you hurt and ache or you\u2019re ill. A dove in the snow isn\u2019t easy to see. Most people will never see the dove at all. They\u2019re lost in the forest and still, they can\u2019t see the trees.<\/span><\/p>\n Don\u2019t be one of them. Look for the things that are the hardest to see. We all can see that dove in the snow if we look hard enough. If we look beyond that which is easily seen, we uncover the beautiful, the true, and the lasting — the forever things that lie hidden beneath the surface. Beauty, truth, love, true friendship, our greatest memories \u2013 the things that never age. They are always with us, but often as hard to see as a dove in the snow.<\/span><\/p>\n The sky is dreary this cold winter day. It’s snowing. And another snowstorm is on the way.\u00a0 But beneath those somber, ashen clouds, and despite the snow and the bitter winter wind, I see the dove in the snow…\u00a0 and that has made all the difference.<\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Like a Dove in the Snow I think that this time of year when darkness comes early and the nights are cold is a thoughtful time. I look out my window and see the endless white of a fresh blanket of snow. This cold, bitter time of year is a time of reflection. The stark, bare,\u2026 Read More »<\/a><\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":13582,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[228],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.thundercloud.net\/infoave\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/22945"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.thundercloud.net\/infoave\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.thundercloud.net\/infoave\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.thundercloud.net\/infoave\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.thundercloud.net\/infoave\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=22945"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/www.thundercloud.net\/infoave\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/22945\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":22946,"href":"https:\/\/www.thundercloud.net\/infoave\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/22945\/revisions\/22946"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.thundercloud.net\/infoave\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/13582"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.thundercloud.net\/infoave\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=22945"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.thundercloud.net\/infoave\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=22945"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.thundercloud.net\/infoave\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=22945"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}