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A WINTER ROSE
"There is nothing like staying at home for real comfort." - Jane Austen
This winter's unusually cold and snowy weather is not over, it appears. Virginia and points north are in for another burst and broadside of wind, snow and a wintry mix. I realize how genuinely blessed I am that, at least for now, I do not have to go out to work, scraping ice off windshields in my heels and pantyhose.
The poor, lovely, cardinal, our state bird, must bear the chill awhile longer, with only his feathers, his mate, and their little nest to defend against the ice and cold. I really marvel at how this little, winter rose, and all the birds survive out there through the winter.
But I, at night, can curl up amidst the thick, flannel sheets and feather pillows and listen, safe and warm, to the wind rattle the siding of the house and the icy rain pound against the windowpanes.
by Robert Louis Stevenson
Whenever the moon and stars are set,
Whenever the wind is high,
All night long in the dark and wet,
A man goes riding by
Late in the night when the fires are out,
Why does he gallop and gallop about?
Whenver the trees are crying aloud
And ships are tossed at sea,
By, on the highway, low and loud,
By at the gallop goes he.
By at the gallop he goes, and then
By he comes back at the gallop again
How absolutely blessed and rich we are, if we have a warm, dry home in which to dwell. How much more blessed, indeed, if we are hidden in Christ, in whom we live, and move and have our being.
" He that dwelleth in the secret place of the most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty.
Surely he shall deliver thee from the snare of the fowler, and from the noisome pestilence.
He shall cover thee with his feathers, and under his wings shalt thou trust: his truth shall be thy shield and
from Psalm 91:1-4