November is a gray month.
The trees are bare and some how appear purple in their nakedness. Cloudy skies are no longer just dark with passing rain but are a steely almost dirty looking shade that proclaims frost and whispers of snow. The rain gets thicker and flirts with the firmness of frozen precipitation. Even the wind seems somehow gray in its new ability to bite.
November snow doesn't usually last long, it's just an appetizer, a foretaste, a teaser, never lasting long enough to make all things look new in its whiteness...just long enough to mess up the driving.
This was true on Monday. This November snow turned gray as a cold rain set in melting the snow into slush. Eventually the snow left and now the 50s have returned if only for a week. But even this little bit of warmth is deceiving with the wind cutting through it.
As you may have guessed November is not necessarily my favorite month. One would think that being a good new england girl, I would have made peace with the seasons long ago, but some how this transition between fall and winter always seems to surprise me.
The only thing I like about November is that it means I can begin listening to Christmas music without being judged.
I am a firm believer that Christmas is what makes the cold worth it!
The decorations, the family time, the joyous parties, the delicious food, the awe-inspiring hymns and carols that speak such gospel truth. When else can you wander through Target on your lunch break and hear the words, "Hail the heav'n-born Prince of Peace! Hail the Son of Righteousness! Light and life to all He brings Ris'n with healing in His wings Mild He lays His glory by Born that man no more may die Born to raise the sons of earth Born to give them second birth Hark! The herald angels sing "Glory to the newborn King!" " playing over the intercom?
As I wander through this world of gray and cold I pray for contentment, I pray for joy, and most of all a pray that this mystery of incarnation...immortal becoming mortal, Creator putting on created skin...that this mystery would sink into my soul. May I live like this is true! Somehow I think that in the light of Jesus setting aside all heavenly glory to be born among livestock, with nothing but the cross before Him, this cold seems a little less gray.
joining up with Emily today at Imperfect Prose