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The wonder of a snowy Sunday morning outdoors moves a mother's soul.

Shawnelle in the snow.

Praise the LORD, O my soul; all my inmost being, praise his holy name. (Psalm 103:1, NIV)

It’s Sunday morning. I wake with Lonny’s arm around me. Through a gap in the curtains, I can see that the world has gone white.

The maple, in the front yard, wears winter. The branches protrude, catching and holding beauty, because the sky has opened wide. It’s supposed to snow all day.

Shawnelle in the snow.The road, the one I can usually see from my bed, has disappeared, and suddenly I understand that there will be no church. No worship. And something in my spirit deflates.

I yearn for worship today.

I can hear that Samuel’s in the kitchen. He understands this will be a morning for staying home, too. He’s making waffles and bacon, I know, as morning is a scent that wafts under my bedroom door.

So we gather around the table. We eat. Dress. And because the falling snow beckons us, we have to be outdoors.

“Want to take a walk?” Lonny asks. I’m surprised because this is unusual. I know that he’d like to clean the drive. He’s the kind of man who likes to get things done.

“Sure,” I say. And moments later, we’re all heading down the road, the one that winds into the country, back behind our house.

Everything is white. Clean. Unblemished. Our boots crunch on fresh snow. The woods, that grow deep beyond the road, is solemn. Still. For a minute I think of woods on a snowy evening and silence and a small horse…

Then I’m smacked from behind. It’s a snowball. I turn around and there’s a grinning son.

It’s too much to resist, this honest, fast fun. We play. Hard. All of us. There’s a pine tree, branches drooping, and the younger boys dart under. They throw snowballs and duck behind their evergreen shield. Their laughter is a song that breaks through this day and for just a moment, I have to stand still.

God’s glory is powerful here.

Creation. The love and togetherness of family. The sweet sound of joy that pushes away worry and nourishes the soul.

The Lord’s good grace surrounds us.

I understand, this morning, as we’re hemmed in by what is so lovely, that worship can happen in anywhere. It can happen when standing side-by-side with my brothers and sisters in Christ, singing praise, hearts lifted toward heaven.

It can be born of a view from a window, morning glory so lovely that it holds one’s spirit still. Or it can happen in the joy of people–spurred by smiles and laughter and cheeks gone rosy from play and the sweet sting of winter air.

I’ve seen it recently, in tough times, too, when He comes so near in the center of a struggle, and we live and breathe sustaining grace.

But today I’m moved to worship in this moment. The wonder of this morning moves my soul.

The Lord is with us always and worship can happen anywhere.

Where ever His grace and glory radiate on the human heart.

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