Snow, that looks more like chunks of shredded cotton and less like dollops of ice, is violently falling from the sky. Sitting at my dining table, it’s picturesque. Watching it descend, I’ve decided it has no rhythm, or maybe too much. Regardless, it’s mesmerizing. I can’t see the ground, but I know it’s not sticking. Coating the roofs, maybe. But not the ground. It felt too warm this morning as I stood outside with coffee in hand and watched Adalynne catch the school bus. It was only a drizzle then, and guilt for making her walk to the end of the street had more bite than the cold despite my thin sleepwear and my fuzzy pink open-toe slides. The sudden onslaught of the blizzard-like build up now swirling outside my dining window has caught me off guard. The scenic view closely mimics the snow that only falls in the movies. It reminds me of empty threats–all the entertainment but no real lasting effect. It’s falling, but not sticking. It’s just temperamental.

Today, by His grace, I’m reminded to be more than the snow outside, despite the allure of its beautiful show. I need to strive for intention rather than entertainment–to not succumb to temperamental emotions that leave no lasting effect other than a temporary mess of the ground. #thoughtsfromthetable

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