It snowed 5 inches in Denver last night.  Came out of nowhere, which is how Colorado prefers to do things.  As I pulled into the garage after school drop offs, I was overwhelmed with the need to take my teddy bear dog on a wintery romp.  It was 8:30am, the sky was already blazing in mid-day blueness, the snow was perfection on every tree branch, and I knew this heaven would melt by day’s end.  And so we took off for two hours of pure peace.  One human crossed our path.  No tracks had been laid.  Billions of untouchable diamonds shimmered on every surface.  Enzo’s bliss caused sparkling powder to fly circles around us as we walked.  And happy, well watered trees released unending white confetti on us as we navigated through thick, low branches. I found myself giggling like a little girl and stopping every 10 feet to take in the awe of what God had done with 5 simple inches of snow.  He made things brand new as far as my eyes could see.

Given this out of character, sappy state of mind I found myself in, my thoughts followed a train I’m holding on tightly to today.  I sat next to river and heard nothing but evidence of earth and sky and moisture and life.  And in that stillness I saw redemption.  I heard it and tasted it and touched it.  I felt new and in a flash of overnight snow, everything around me was made new.  I wished that all humans needing a reminder of things being made new could have been there to witness it.  It would have been impossible to walk away from that newness, not aware that redemption exists.  Even if just for a moment.  Snipits of redemption are all around us and I wonder if I focus too heavily on waiting for massive displays and miss all the slivers.  Or maybe my ideas of what redemption should look like barricade God’s offerings.  This morning though?  The barricades were removed and I was humbled, leading me to uncover how much redemption I’ve experienced lately and haven’t stopped long enough to give credit where it’s due.

ALL things will not be made new until a remarkably dramatic day none of us can pinpoint.  But we’re not meant to hold out for ALL things.  We’re given small and medium and significantly large new things to remind us, to sustain us, to encourage us and to redeem us.  Some days we can’t see the new and then we get Monday mornings like today where the new overwhelms our very breath and offers redemption as a free and undeniable gift.  I accepted the gift and will continue reminding myself that redemption exists all around me.  I’m the only barrier getting in its way.