Bacon, Eggs & Blueberry Muffins with Snow

Brilliant sunlight on the new fallen snow--all 14 inches of it.  That's what I woke to this morning, along with Bill's footsteps crunching across the roof above me.  Outside on the back porch our lab, Tucker, was patiently waiting at the bottom of an old ladder, looking up to where my husband had disappeared.  I instantly had a mental picture of Bill sliding face down over the edge of the side of the house into a pile of snow he had just shoveled, and Tucker running over to lick his cheeks.

I yelled out the back door, attempting to persuade him that roof climbing wasn't the smartest thing to be doing in 14 inches of snow, and heard him mumble in response--something about having to clear the vents.   After a few minutes I watched as his size 11 leather boots, all covered in white powder, made their way from the edge of the roof backwards down the rungs of the ladder, landing safely on the porch again.  Relieved there was no major disaster, I turned away to start breakfast.

The coffee pot was ready to go, so I added some Tim Horton's and started mixing up batter for some blueberry muffins, all the while watching Bill through the kitchen window as he shoveled a path to the garden shed.  The girls' footprints had almost disappeared from the night before when they had waded out to look for the old sleds.  

It had been years since anyone had ridden a toboggan at our house--our girls grew up in North Georgia and have no love for Western Pennsylvania winters.  But our youngest daughter and her friends decided that sled riding is just the thing to do at midnight in the middle of the biggest snow storm of the year.  So they bundled up with scarves and mittens and played in the snow like children, having no sense of time or care, just pure joy and abandon.  Only the cold brought them back inside.  There was laughter in the air and icicles in their hair, all of which melted away as they warmed up over cups of hot cocoa and got ready for bed. 

Now it was almost noon, and as teenagers do, they were still sleeping, with their wet clothes hanging in the garage to dry.  Bill came in the back door, his face red from the cold, kissed me on the neck and asked if I would like him to cook.   We did it together.  The smell of bacon wafted downstairs to where the girls were cuddled in their fleece blankets, and into Ashley's room where she had disappeared hours ago.  One by one they showed up, sleepy-eyed and still in their pajamas, all looking for something to eat.  I was glad we could oblige. 

There is something about food that connects us, gives us a common ground, and a starting place for building and maintaining relationships.  There is something about sitting around the kitchen table with the ones you love.  Could it be God had a bigger plan for bacon and eggs than merely to satisfy our physical hunger?  Could it be that He created us and food for something greater?  To get up close and personal with one another, to love and care for each other, to enjoy those around us--when we do this, we love and enjoy Him as well.

So the dishes are done.  And Chelsea's friends have all gone home.  I can smell the home-made potato soup Bill is cooking in the kitchen.  We are taking it to our neighbor's house in a little while--the one who just plowed the snow from our driveway.  And we are going to spend some time together talking, eating and celebrating life, celebrating the One who gave it.  God smiles, and His light shines in our hearts.  And like the sun's reflection on the beautiful snow outside, we glisten--brilliantly.  This is worship.  Selah.

Photo Credit: flickr - rusvaplauke