Like the sludge on a car in the winter, most of our messes accumulate gradually.
This time of year, our inner landscapes can seem as bleak as the outer ones.
On a crisp winter morning, I took a walk in the sparkling snow covering our small farm. Soon four beehives beckoned.
Those of us in violence-plagued neighborhoods look forward to winter's reprieve. Our teenagers understand Advent waiting all too well.
Driving through a mini-snowstorm, I thought I might see a snowbow. But it never materialized--and once again, none of the snow stuck.
Snow can be tiresome, even deadly, but it can also be a sign of holiness and of hope.
This month could be consecrated to all hidden preparations, to children in the womb and to those who long to conceive. In February all is potency, awaiting God's redeeming act.