The Least Beautiful

Above me your handiwork declares your glory. The sky is frozen in blue and the birds are quiet. The ground is covered with snow and brightens what little light has entered the day. Limbs reach frozen overhead and fallen trees lie in piles on the windblown earth. As bleak as it seems this winter morning, your hand is in all this. Nothing moves, not even the highest branches of your painting. To be a part of your canvas is a blessing I can’t put to words. In this massive canvas, I’m a few brushstrokes and the least beautiful part of what you’re made. I’m thankful that you’ve let me see your artwork and walk through your winter scene while I pray that the day brings blessings, that you’ll protect me, and that you’ll shelter to me from this cold. I know that I am your most disappointing creation. But every day is a chance for redemption and being painted anew.