"The Wintry Day"

Day 31

I have been loving our snowy weekend.

It helps to be blessed with a warm home full of friends and food, and my ever-loved bed. And blankets. And warm clothes. And running water. And games. And music. And books. And even electricity.

There are 5 of us "snowed in" together. While many times I crave my independence, it's also nice to be in a family setting with love and laughter.

So while the few inches we received is a pathetic excuse for canceling church, people who cannot drive in snow, roads not being cleared, and most of the snow actually being inches of ice concealed under a bit of powder are pretty good reasons. Thus I had to "make" my Sabbath on my own without the chance to go to the Lord's house.

So I went out into His world.

I took a leisurely (and slightly humorous) walk in the ice snow. With little to no cars or people about, it was sheer loveliness.

I brought along the iPod to listen to my Sunday music. You may imagine the smile and worshipping that came with walking by a scene like this

while hearing the Mormon Tabernacle Choir sing "Praise to the Lord, the Almighty" or a choir sing "My Kindness Shall Not Depart from Thee."

Too lovely to pass up, so I sat down to soak it in. (It was not very cold. I'm used to MUCH colder!) A lovely place for reading, pondering, reflection, and contemplation.

Other activities of reading the Ensign, preparing for my lesson next Sunday, reading the sections for Institute in a couple of days, resting, listening to my Sunday playlist for hours, watching Music & the Spoken Word (I miss the regularity of that in my life!), and watching an LDS worship service were just some of the things to add to my Sabbath day.

But nothing quite compared to my communion with my Father by enjoying some of the world His Son created by His power and authority.

The Wintry Day, Descending to Its Close

by Orson F. Whitney

The wintry day, descending to its close,
Invites all wearied nature to repose,
And shades of night are falling dense and fast
Like sable curtains closing o'er the past.
Pale through the gloom the newly fallen snow
Wraps in a shroud the silent earth below
As though 'twere mercy's hand had spread the pall,
A symbol of forgiveness unto all.

I cannot go to rest but linger still
In meditation at my window sill,
While, like the twinkling stars in heaven's dome,
Come one by one sweet memories of home.
And wouldst thou ask me where my fancy roves
To reproduce the happy scenes it loves?
Where hope and memory together dwell
And paint the pictured beauties that I tell?

Away beyond the prairies of the West
Where exiled Saints in solitude were blest;
Where industry the seal of wealth has set
Amid the peaceful vales of Deseret,
Unheeding still the fiercest blasts that blow,
With tops encrusted by eternal snow,
The towering peaks that shield the tender sod,
Stand, types of freedom reared by nature's God.

The wilderness, that naught before would yield,
Is now become a fertile, fruitful field.
Where roamed at will the savage Indian band,
The templed cities of the Saints now stand.
And sweet religion in its purity
Invites all men to its security.
This is my home, the spot I love so well,
Whose worth and beauty pen nor tongue can tell.