Amy's Oasis

I have a (childish?) fascination with snowflakes.  I love watching them as they fall swollenly in the gray of a winter day.  I love watching them dance and sparkle in the sun.  Most of all, I love examining them individually, each one different, and each one a miriacle. 

   The other day I was watching them fall onto my coat and was suddenly overwhelmed with the wonder of our God.  Each snowflake that fell was more beautiful than anything that hangs in an art museum, and each one was such a part of our mundane little lives that we hardly notice them anymore.  I imagined God, fashioning each one with His fingers, a mind so rapid and imaginitive that millions apon millions could fall in a second of time - the same second that He is doing all the other things that hold this world in place.  Suddenly I was sad that such a beautiful thing was melting . . . that each one would eventually change shape and form.  Then it dawned on me - changing shape was not necessarily destruction.  It was simply turning into another miriacle - a water droplet.

  And really - why aren't we more amazed? Why aren't we moved to trust Him? We have a God who not only orchestrates the whirlwind, but who perfectly directs every dust particle that moves in the air.  Who not only moves every tidal wave, but who commands even the drops of water that spray as waves both small and big crash together.  Who not only knits a tiny baby together, but who wraps himself in the same skin to become the only man with the power to carry the weight of the sin of the world. 

If you think about it, every miriacle really points to that one.  Because it is the small things that are sometimes really the biggest - more than we will ever know.