It’s still snowing here. I caught myself wondering if I have a newborn snow suit for when the baby is born in April because right now it feels as if it’s going to snow forever. The thing about this storm or event (I refuse to call it “snowmaggedon”), at least where we are, is that while it failed to live up to the worst case scenarios, it just keeps coming, and coming, and building up and piling one layer of frozen something on the next layer of frozen something.
In some ways the sheer relentless monotony has been harder to deal with than the spectacular wild winds and power failures that had been predicted. Isn’t that the case in life? The things that really beat us down aren’t the moments of dramatic tragedy, it’s the daily accumulation of the next layer of hardship to struggle against. Why are finances more likely to break up a marriage than infidelity? Because financial struggles are piled on, layer by layer, day by day, until a marriage just crumbles under the accumulated weight of the frozen layers.
But here’s the thing. God sanctifies us the same way, melting and peeling back layer by layer in the midst of the day to day monotony of life. We aren’t sanctified only in the midst of the storms, we’re sanctified in the mundane so that we can stand in the midst of the storms. I often fail to remember that these days of small children and messy floors and back aches and heartburn are the tools the Lord has set aside to make me more like Him. Rather than seeing them like this snow storm – accumulating layers that feel as if they will go one forever – I need to see them as small, fine grit sandpaper that slowly smooths back the layers, shaping me into the wife, mother, woman God wants me to be two, four, twenty years from now.
And yes, one of those sanctifying experiences is a snowy St. Louis winter. Or four.