Feather-Flurries

I was surprised on the road today.

My walk in the late afternoon began under overcast skies; I was preoccupied with thoughts concerning various people.  A certain family member currently struggles with discouragement, another with depression, yet another with indecision.  A friend who has been confronting a serious (and illusive) health issue for the past seven months is now being stalked by a man with mental illness and a history of drug abuse.  Another friend battles skeletons from the past.  A third recently confessed a hardened heart after years (actually decades) of waiting, waiting, and waiting for a dream that never materialized.

As I powered on through the cold requesting God’s breakthrough for these people, a snowflake fell.  Just one flake.

It wafted down like the tiniest of white feathers falling from a leaky pillow.  In fact, at first I thought it must be a piece of leftover milkweed down.  I stopped and watched as it hit the pavement and dissolved.

Strange.  Just one flake?

Before long another stray floated down softly out of the gray clouds.   These WERE snowflakes, right?  But why so few?

Within the next two minutes more flakes joined those two until soon I was surrounded.  Shrouded, enveloped, contained, redefined by marvelous, delicate, snowy white.  Feathery weightlessness.

Each feather-flake seemed to carry a message: I am hope.  I am peace.  I am joy.  I am, I am, I am.  I AM.   I am enough.  As I continued down a quiet, single-lane road, I recognized these silent-but-persistent frozen feathers as God’s messengers.

I reminded myself of how, in recent years, my definition of grace has shifted.  I no longer think in terms of a singular grace (often described as God’s “unmerited favor”), but rather in a plural sense: graces that show up in the physical world, or in relationships, or deep within the human heart, to deliver divine love, compassion, and/or mercy.

A hazy moon suddenly appeared as the clouds momentarily parted and the snow stopped falling all-at-once.  I stared at the incomplete orb hanging in the sky, as if for verification.  Yes.  I was right.  The flurry was symbolic.

Someone else might describe this occurrence as coincidence, or simply a nice walk in nature.  But to me, it expressed something beyond intellect as a heart-language resonated within my spirit: “I am involved with each of the people you know who are facing serious concerns. I am not absent, but am working.  I am calling some to Myself, helping others discover or accept certain circumstances, and guiding others to a greater maturity of faith. I am enough for each of those facing challenges.  I am enough for you ... for all.  I AM.”  

When I arrived home I gladly slipped into our cozy house, hung my coat, and spent a minute watching two wild swans bobbing on the frigid lake while I warmed up.  Then as I walked across the floor I looked down, and noticed something …. a mysterious, miniature white feather lay on the floor.  Where did it come from? How did it get there?  I don't know.