Writing in the White Space began in the white space of my journal.

I wrote that white space was “a canvas to be painted, a sky with endless possibilities for combinations of light and dark to streak across it . . . art waiting to happen.”

In the White Space of life I search for the prism of God . . . 

and discover the colors that make life truly beautiful.

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Cold

The snow clings to the branches as long as the temperature is right—keeping it light.

But when heat begins to melt the bonds of cold…flakes turn to slush.

Wishing to stay afloat, dreaming of a breeze to fly upon–no longer. Now water, it must fully fall to the ground to impart its own life to the soil of the earth below.

Yet it will live again, rise as vapor to mingle and dance upon the atmosphere…to become…

warm as tears, cold as art.

My thoughts long to be weightless as vapor. Not tears, but snowflakes, chilled to icy perfection so they may joyfully float as they fall.

They long to be cold, and cold is not bad.

Cold is when rest cycles start, when hidden rejuvenation happens. Growth slows, but life is not barren, just hidden–blanketed by air and water-light, dripping slowly to nourish.

Melting so deliberately.

Lord, may my inspirations float as unique flakes and be directed by the wind of your Holy Spirit. May they be free, joyful and happy just to be.

Others may scoff, criticize, and ridicule what I create, but there’s no denying the perfection of a snowflake–and isn’t that what all art is?

You see it, and that needs to be enough for me.

Without you I am nothing; have nothing. Not one single flake, one breath, one thought, one drop of blood.

Life — let mine be left and lived and shared.

No other life but this one can I lay at your feet.

Make me a melting offering.

Today, I pray…to be a flake.

Or at least a little more flake-y. 🙂