The home is small, the wilderness expansive. The trees and flakes are sparkle rimmed. The skis are set, ready for another foray into the forest; the lights are on. There’s some wood to throw on the fire just outside the door. There are words in the air. Everything needed is here, but nothing beyond it.

Simple isn’t easy, but if I can recognize the holiness of an uncluttered inner and outer space, I just might see in the woods, words, and flakes a glimpse of God’s ever-changing, never-ending love.