Blanketed

Note: The following is an edited version of a fiction story I wrote on February 20, 2025, in 10 minutes, using the one-word prompt ("blanket") I was given.

The photo was taken in 2005 at Montecito Lodge in the Giant Sequoia National Forest in California. Although the details in the photo don't align with every detail in the story, I'm posting it anyway because it's a photo I enjoy seeing again and again.

Fluffy snowflakes float effortlessly toward the ground. As the hours pass, accumulated snow conceals still-brown grass and shrouds limbs of leafless trees. The drab winter canvas outside disappears, hidden under a blanket of pristine snow. 

The covering will melt away as soon as temperatures rise above freezing. The world will return to its ordinary-ness, the magic of freshly fallen snow gone until another day, perhaps even another year. And I will resume my hectic schedule.

But for one day, this day, the world has been made exceptionally beautiful. So white. So quiet. So still.

I am warm and cozy inside a climate-controlled house where a furnace purrs like a contented kitten. Decaf coffee brews and drops into the carafe from which I pour a cup of comforting warmth. I lounge in my jammies and feel no need to rush off to work or do anything other than relax.

I realize I’ve been given a perfect day to curl up on the sofa beside the fireplace and cover myself with the comfy throw my neighbor gave me for Christmas. Before I reach for a nearby book, I bow my head and say, “Thank You, Father, for this unexpected—and undeserved—day of pure bliss, a day You have created, a day You have provided for me. I am awed by how You cover me with Your love even more gently and completely than You’ve covered with snow this little part of the world I call home.”

Stop. Think. Change.

Ever since I read Mike Ashcroft and Rachel Olsen’s excellent book, My One Word, I’ve chosen one word to focus on each year, as the authors suggest. The first year, I chose the word finish. Throughout each day of that year, I reminded myself to finish whatever could be completed at that time. Rather than flit from task to task, as I tend to do, I’d simply remind myself to finish! I noticed a big change in the amount of work I was able to get done. And I did my work more efficiently and with less stress.

The second year, I chose the word love. Many times each day, I’d look for ways to express love to people. Apparently, I did pretty well with that, for a Christmas card my husband and I received that year commended us for the many ways we extend love and care to others.

This year, I’ve chosen the word change. Whenever I catch myself doing or saying or feeling anything that's contrary to the better person I want to become, I’ll say to myself, “This is not good. Stop it! Change!” (After all, I do have a choice, and I can choose to feel and behave differently.)

By systematically making one change at a time, followed by another and another, it shouldn't be all that difficult. However, it will demand constant awareness--and constant follow through. And, of course, I'll need to continue to remind myself to finish and to love.

Thus says the LORD of hosts: "Consider your ways!"

Haggai 1:7, NKJV

Pockets of Peace

NOTE: The story below is a fiction one I wrote in 2006. I hope you enjoy it and that you will let me know what you think of it.

A smile begins to form as I sit at the kitchen table and watch the softly-falling snow as it slowly hides the brown earth underneath a blanket of white. A soothing calm settles over me as I gaze at the beauty outside my window.

I linger over my morning coffee, reluctant to focus on the bitter realities of the day. My health is failing fast, as fast as early morning frost disappears under the rays of a rising sun. My daughter Dianne and her family no longer live nearby. Though they had to move across the country to find work, I miss them terribly. And I need them more than ever, now that the man who has been the love of my life for 55 years is slipping away from me, too. Alzheimer’s, the doctor says. Some days, he knows who I am. Other days, he looks at me as if I’m someone he’s supposed to know but doesn’t.

Here lately, my spirit feels as cold as my body did during the harsh winters my parents and I lived in a ramshackle farmhouse heated by a drafty fireplace in the living room and a wood-burning stove in the kitchen.

But, I say to myself as I sip the last of my coffee, we survived those bone-chilling days. By the grace of God, I’ll get through these difficult days, too. I may not be “at ease” every day, but I know I’ll have the strength and resources I need to get through this tough time.

I become even more convinced of that as I recall what happened yesterday. The doorbell rang around 8 a.m. When I peeped through the mini-blinds on the kitchen door, I saw Nancy, one of Dianne’s dearest friends. “My goodness!” I gasped, holding the door wide open. “What on earth do you have?”

“Just a little bit of Christmas cheer,” she said, juggling her festive load as she stepped inside.

Within minutes, she’d placed a miniature Christmas tree on the breakfast table and had unwrapped plates of food that looked more delicious than any I’d seen in magazines.

“Now, for the gifts,” she said cheerily, handing two packages to me. “Let’s get Tom so he can enjoy this, too.”

       

We found him sitting in his recliner facing the picture window, gazing out at the falling snow, his eyes as blank as an unpainted canvas.

       

“Honey,” I said, “come and see what Nancy brought us.”

       

He followed me, his steps (and mine) unsteady and slow. As we seated ourselves at the table, Nancy warmed our food in the microwave oven. “I thought you two would be up and around,” she said. “So, I rushed over to start Christmas day off just right for you.”

       

Other friends dropped by later, bringing gifts and offers of help for Tom and me. One neighbor promised to cut our grass next summer. Another said, “I’ll take you to the doctor whenever you need to go.” The young mother who lives four doors down said, “I’ll deliver your groceries.”

       

So, as I sit here today, I’m greatly comforted by their expressions of love and offers of help. I realize such kindnesses can’t remove my difficulties. But, like the snowflakes drifting down one by one and covering the bleakness of the winter landscape, accumulated kindnesses will mask my hardships—for brief periods, providing me with welcomed pockets of peace like this one.

In His Time

Several years ago, a friend who lives in Nevada said, “We have five inches of snow on the ground—and more on the way."

“Well, then," I said, "I won’t e-mail you the spring photos I’d planned to send you. I wouldn’t want you to think I was saying, ‘Ha! Ha! We have spring and you don’t!’”

   “Oh, I wouldn’t think that!” she replied. “Go ahead and send the photos. They’ll encourage me!”

   As I scrolled through dozens of digital photos I’d uploaded to my computer, I had a hard time deciding which ones to send. I finally settled on five.

   When I checked my e-mail the following morning, her reply was waiting for me. “The pictures are just gorgeous. Thanks for sending them.  Makes spring feel a little closer for me.”

I knew she was as eager for spring as I was! Early in February I began going outside frequently to check for signs of spring. Once they began appearing, I was so excited. I took pictures, pictures, and more pictures of the daffodils, of the delicate blooms on the flowering almond tree, and of anything and everything that had color!

I don’t know if I could stand to wait until late March or April or perhaps early June for spring to arrive, as folks in colder climates have to do. I’m sure I, like everyone else, would be asking, “Will it ever be spring?”

After the chilly, dreary days of winter, we long for spring, for signs of new life, for splashes of color, for warmer temperatures ...so that we can end our hibernation and get out and about once again.

We long for the time when we can say, “…the winter is past, and the rain is over and gone. The flowers are springing up, and the time of singing birds has come…The fig trees are budding, and the grapevines are in blossom. How delicious they smell! Yes, spring is here!” (Song of Songs, 2:11-13a.)

But sometimes we feel stuck in one season—in life, as well as in nature—don’t we? For example, children often feel they’ll be children forever! They long to grow up and do the things big people do. Likewise, people who are battling an illness may see no end to that season.

Whenever we’re feeling stuck in a season, it’s good to remind ourselves of this truth: “There is a time for everything, a season for every activity under heaven. A time to be born and a time to die. A time to plant and a time to harvest…A time to cry and a time to laugh. A time to grieve and a time to dance… ” (Ecclesiastes 3:1-4).

Although we enjoy some seasons more than others, we benefit from experiencing a variety of seasons and cycles, else the Creator wouldn’t have designed them. In fact, we need the harshness and bleakness of winter in order to appreciate the warmth and beauty of spring. As 17^th century poet Anne Bradstreet pointed out, “If we had no winter, the spring would not be so pleasant: if we did not sometimes taste of adversity, prosperity would not be so welcome.”

So…whatever time, whatever season, we find ourselves in, especially if we’re feeling stuck in it, let’s follow David’s example and humbly say to God, “My times are in thy hand…” (Psalm 31:15, KJV). And then wait patiently for Him to provide the next season--in His time.

© 2012 by Johnnie Ann Burgess Gaskill, www.jgaskill.com.

Unless otherwise noted, Scripture quoted is from the New Living Translation.