The 10"'s of snow we were to get here in Tulsa, turned out to be...just rain. The temperature remained just above freezing and melted much of the ice that held us captive. Deanna is back in school today.

I do find it interesting how disappointed I felt. I got up Saturday morning, and looked outside, as we had been told the snow may begin after midnight. It had not started.

Later, I turned on the t.v. and saw it was still headed our way, but had been revised down to 5"'s. Periodically throughout the day, I checked...and rechecked, but it never came. How can they be sooo wrong?

There is nothing quite like 'hope' in our lives. I kept hoping it was coming. Not because I wanted more "frozen home" syndrome, but because I love snow. I love how everything looks after it has blanketed the surroundings. It is beautiful.

There is still something romantic about being snowed in (even after you've just been iced in). Churches everywhere cancelled services in anticipation of the weather. We waited. Nothing happened.

Oh we still managed to enjoy the romance of it. Anticipation impacts that front in a significant way. We watched movies, worked on the inside of our home, Deanna made two kinds of hot soup, and we even spent time with friends.

When I think back on the number of times in my life that I 'hoped' for something that did not come to pass, I realize the number is not small. However, it never dampens my enthusiasm.

As a child, I often hoped for forecast snow in winter, and lay in bed listening to the radio, hoping school would be cancelled. It never happened as often as I wished. The warmth and comfort of my bed in those moments was unlike anything else. It hugged me tight, and tempted me to drift back to sleep. Inevitably, I'd have to get up and go to school. But I still hoped.

I had an early morning paper route through many of those years. Laying warm in bed was a luxury to me. I remember how a blizzard swept my hometown in 1978. Drifts were literally as high as the homes and businesses in our community. We missed a lot of school during that period. Progress ground to a wintry halt. I remember hiking five miles across our city in the midst of it. I saw abandoned cars filled with driven snow. Entire car lots where the cars had disappeared under winter's worst.

I still delivered my papers. I remember being bundled up, and trudging through the snow. It took many, many hours to complete a route that normally took me an hour or so. Many of my customers were up and waiting for me when I arrived at their door. Their anticipation for their morning paper was more important than I realized.

Most of them invited me in. That was the week I started drinking coffee. It was bitterly cold outside, the snow was very deep, and it was hard to find my way from place to place. Any tracks I left would be gone the next day as the wind drifted my path shut. Many of my customers had the coffee pot on, and though I was a teenager, I began to drink it just to take the edge off of winters bite. I usually completed my route in the dark...the snow brought light to wee hours.

How I longed through the years for another storm like that. It never came. It still hasn't. I do enjoy the snow, and I hold hope for it to come again.

When Beej was in the hospital, hope was our "constant companion." It ebbed and flowed, as one can imagine, but it was always there. Near the end, when he began to fade quickly, hope remained. We believed, and we knew that our Lord had the power to bring him back...to restore him quickly, if it was His will.

When he passed, though it was early fall, the blade of winters razor edge pierced our warm hope. We were devastated. The hope for his life, became the hope for the Lord's quick return. How could such a cruel end meet such a faithful young man?

I remember teaching my children to make snowballs. We built snow forts complete with secret tunnels and escape routes. We made snow angels. We went on winter hikes. We had a great deal of joy in missed days of school and work. We spent them together laughing, watching movies and drinking hot cocoa.

My fondness for this time of year will likely never wane. The anticipation I have for snow filled days has as its hallmark, incredible memories of time spent, love and the jovial approval of my children's voices.

That one of them was taken home early has brought a new hope to my life. I understand why the Lord made the decision He did. I am not bitter, or angry. I am filled with anticipation of what it will one day be like.

I stood beside him and worshipped my Lord while he was here. I will kneel beside him to bring honor to my King, again. The days of memories will be past. Each moment will be laden with the fulfillment of every anticipation. Where Hope resides, there will be Jesus! The embodiment of our dreams. His Light will transcend the boundaries of hope lost. His luminance will bring anticipation with resolution to each moment.
No more tears, no more pain. Just Jesus! Amen.

dad