Whiter than Snow

Snow falls gently on the town this early Saturday morning. It’s a Christmas card picture in the playground with lamplight glow on tree branches layered in snow. I pray, “Wash me and I shall be whiter than snow.”

I’m on the train to market, the last one before Christmas. 2024 draws to a close. Reflecting back, I remember the passing of loved ones, Laurence’s major eye surgeries, and the peace of God that passes all understanding – the peace of quiet places while knowing the presence of God whether it be in our small apartment, the chapel at Sugar Hill, an old cabin on South Hero Island in Vermont, or on this train where commuters sleep.

And now it’s a cold Sunday morning. I’ll wear leggings and tights to church. It’s the Sunday for a service at Bowery Mission and for singing carols in the subway. However now is the quiet time of worship in our bedroom. Laurence says, “I was impressed yesterday with the verse, ‘Wash me, and I will be whiter than snow.'”

“I was too.”

“Do you think this means once in a while or daily?”

It’s time to prepare for the day: to put Sunday school books and salad fixings in the backpack, stick an Omni card in my pocket, and pull on mittens. First though, I turn my Bible to Revelation 7:14, “They have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb.” Washed whiter than snow by the blood of the Lamb! Because of this we have a carol to sing, a tract to give, a Bible story book for a child or for the homeless young woman whose children have been taken from her.

The angels sang to the shepherds, “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests.” Washed whiter than snow, experiencing peace is my prayer for each of us. 

Merry Christmas! Berniece