Burdened and Bent Over...Like Us

The Maine winter is a harsh and cruel force of nature.

I don't really mean in the sense of fierce, white-out blizzards and devilish roads covered in ice, though we get plenty of those-I mean in the sense that winter lasts far too long. The soft, white blankets of snow that fall in November become like rough pillows that murderers use to smother sleeping victims as March rolls around. By the end of February, you're already sick of watching graceful snowfall.

Not exactly the sort of description one expects to hear about winter.

The worst part about winter has to be shoveling. Any teenager who lives in the North can tell a teenager in the South that snowfall is fun and games for all about two hours till you parents tell you to grab the shovel and get the snow off the back deck.

Then you've got another few hours of back-breaking work, digging through feet of snow, then through inches of solid ice. Not to mention its below zero. Oh, and you also have to clear out the gutters of ice-else when it rains the gutters will overflow and cause sheets of ice to form on the roof-which proceed to melt during winter and leak through into the house.

So much for a winter wonderland huh?

It happened one day while I was shoveling off the back deck. It was a snow day-which meant I had all day freed up to shovel. The snow was still falling in heavy blankets-or murderous pillows rather. We have a pretty large deck in the back that is notorious for building up foot upon foot upon foot of snow.

Covered head to toe in a warm, protective, but stiff, winter outfit, I kept shoveling and shoveling. My Mom will tell you she could hear my groaning and whining miles away. She's probably right. I am a notorious whiner.

I took a break to watch the snowfall. Even though I hated that it was falling so thickly and fast-it is still an event to be admired. Snowfall is one of those magical occurrences that seem to enchant the soul. There's also something about virgin snow that makes you stop and stare. The rolling hills of pure white, untouched and perfectly smooth with snow flakes. Needless to say, the snow cast me under its spell.

I dropped my shovel and headed for the woods behind my house.

The woods behind my house are both deep and vast. Even though I've lived in that house for nearly five years, I'm sure to get lost if I ran head straight into it without looking back.

They say you can find God better in the wilderness. As C.S. Lewis so eloquently put it "He's not a tame lion." I don't know if I went into the woods to find God, but I needed a break from shoveling and a forest in winter is not like a city in winter.

No matter what season, the woods are always beautiful.

So, I broke the virgin snow and went into the woods.

It was like that scene in the Chronicles of Narnia, when Lucy first stumbles into Narnia through the wardrobe. She finds herself in a forest lost in winter, a magical place that has taken her breath away.

The great pine trees stood like sleeping giants around me, covered head to root in white flakes fallen from the sky. The moment I step into their world, I am cut off from noisy suburbia and thrust into an untamed kingdom.

A little thing I like to do when I'm among those great, sleeping giants is to go under their branches and grab them by their skinny trunks. I give the trunk a firm shake...and then stand still as the snow collected atop the hundreds of branches up above fall down onto me like a waterfall.

My own little blizzard beneath a sleeping giant.

I wondered deeper into the woods, looking back every once in a while at the house to make sure it was still in sight. With everything covered in white, the woods are more lost than ever.

Wondering a little deeper, I thought about going back. I still had a whole lot of snow to shovel back at the deck.

Then I saw it.

There was a opening in the trees. A perfect circular meadow among the great, sleeping giants. In the center of this opening was a little tree. A little Christmas tree that could not have been taller than six or seven feet tall. It was like a scene built for a movie.

It was so burdened with heavy sheets of snow, it was completely bent over. The tip-top of the tree was nearly frozen to the ground.

Burdened and bent over...like us.

Nature is God's great allegory written out for all humanity to read.

The other trees surrounding the little one were so tall and straight, covered with snow but not bent over. They seemed a little too prideful about it. It was as if they were mocking the little tree, because he had failed to be so great as they were. Because he had given into the snow and would be forced to stay bent over.

Taking pity on the poor thing, I set to work clearing it of its burden. I shook it free of snow, swept it away with my hands, kicked at the ice-sickles, did whatever I could. Then I gave a good, strong pull and forced it back up straight. It stood up straight. But only for a few seconds.

The thing had been so used to being bent over, it began to fall back into its comfortable position. I grabbed at it again and pulled it back up, bending it the other way to keep it from falling over again. I pulled and pushed, heaved and and hoed, shook it free completely of snow. In the end it decided to stand upright.

Well the meaning in that is not a hard one to find.

I used to find myself like that little Christmas tree, burdened and bent over by the sin that never ceased to fall. Never ceased to quit. Never gave me a break. I began to hate those who stood so upright, high and mighty-living their perfect lives around me.

But even the sleeping giants have their own secrets-a lot of them fell in storms later that summer.

Then He came along, shaking the sin off trees by grabbing them by the trunk, by the soul. He saw me, shook off the sin, swept it away with his hands, kicked away the bad habits. But I was so used to old ways that I quickly fell over again. So, He rolled up his sleeves and set to work. He had to bend me a few other ways, near the point of breaking. It took me a while to stand up-but I did in the end.

Like I said before, nature is God's great allegory written out for all humanity to read.