Memories That Winter's First Snow Brings.

The first winter snow arrives at 9.47 and the world seems to pause as if holding its breath. The slow drifting flakes open a doorway in memory and I return to the journals that waited in my old suitcase. Seven years fall away and I meet the voice I once carried. That voice wrote of promises and direction with a trembling certainty that surprised me even now.

Each line feels like a lantern held up in a long corridor. I see how the journey has brought storms and I understand why the weight of glimpsing the future can feel so heavy. It is one thing to be shown a path and another to walk it with tired feet and hopeful senses.

Yet here I stand in this snowfall with a quieter strength. I recognize that what I heard was true and even the corrections were a kind of kindness guiding me back each time I drifted. I am not a master in the proud sense. I am simply someone who has been patient with the work of growth. The snow softens the world and reminds me that God often shapes a life through steady patience rather than sudden fire.

This moment carries a gentle invitation to keep moving forward with courage. The path is still forming and the snow makes it shine.