Hoarfrost coated every branch and blade of grass this morning. But its cold beauty was was small comfort during my walk. My thoughts were with my friend who lost her husband on Christmas Eve. Of how grief has stripped her of joy. Of how quickly her family gathering careened from celebration to mourning.
I walked through the morning fog, wanting more than anything to be angry with God. I wanted to rail against him for this cruel turn of events. I wanted to curse the sun as it burned away the fog to reveal an achingly beautiful, blue winter sky. I wanted God to show some remorse, not flaunt his glory.
Instead, he sent an icy breeze to shake frost from the branches. It drifted through the air and laced my scarf with a crown of white thorns. Softer than the crown of thorns Jesus wore. A gentle picture of his suffering. The very breath of God reminding me that he can comfort my friend better than any other because he knows her pain.
Christ’s beauty is small comfort on this cold winter day. But it is the only answer I’ve been given. Dear Jesus, may it be enough.
