“Come let us reason together”, says the Lord. ”Though your sins be as scarlet, they will be white as snow.” Isaiah 1:18
Snow covered the yard and wind was relentless for days. Nevertheless, snow is exciting, and tucks one into a cozy frame of mind, removing a myriad of options from a day off. In the quiet house clocks tic toc the time, the faucet is dripping away to protect the pipes from freezing, and cars ease by on a snow covered 3rd.
I sliced a box of plump little multicolored tomatoes and slid trays full into the dehydrator, but not before saving some of the seeds. I covered the seeds lightly in a little box of soil and put them near a window. Seeds have come up with no care at all in past compost piles and random spots in the yard and garden, so maybe these seeds will find their way to germination too. They will help with the wait for spring either way. 😊
I often dream of what I could accomplish if I had a string of days like this. I imagine all the reading I would do, the notes I would take, the food I would fix and the plans I would make and accomplish. Then a day comes when downy snowflakes fall from the sky and into my lap is a snow day.
And it has happened again, weather that says, “Just cozy up inside. There’s nothing for you out here. The view out the window is best.” Rain fell in the night and giant trucks slid over yonder, off the interstate pavement into the trees and up banks of icy ground. Ice is nearly non-negotiable and it’s not wise to try, but oh, how we try anyway.
Black birds visited the yard in a throng, pecking the ground looking like digital creations. Maybe they are searching for pieces of pecans discarded by gluttonous squirrels. They all rose and filled the hickory tree, filling in the gaps left by fallen leaves, but only for a moment before moving like a black cloud across the lawn to the pecan tree, then to the ground again before flying away to who knows where. I watched them from my second story window snapping pictures.
“Come let us reason together.“
I slice the tomatoes and dry them for a day. How different they taste when not carried in a splash of water, how chewy and sweet. In my excitement I held one finished piece in the light of my window before eating it. The winter storm had changed my dead yard to a glamorous, all white stage where the tomato became a marvel before it. As if before a spotlight now, I saw the seeds exposed in their deep and secret place suspended in time, an intimate peek into a scarlet explosion in the heart of the fruit, like little, fat exclamation points, like rambunctious, young sperm in pursuit of the egg. I’m shy at the sight of it. If they had a voice I’d hear shouts of joy and the whisper of…
“Come let us reason”.
It’s been days still simmered on this theme, these thoughts pulled apart. I started an ancient practice in a jar on my kitchen counter, fermenting milk. It is silky and white and tart from growing bacteria that is good for me. Then I dried pounds and pounds of strawberries into sweet, red chips. Yesterday, I put them all in a plastic bag and felt so pleased with this work. The whites and the reds glaring again. A simple, messy life, tucked in a measly river valley town has things yet to say. Important lines to repeat out loud in my own simple way.
“Come let us reason“
There is nothing more or less going on in this life long mess of discarded strawberry tops and the feelings and experiences. It is all a boiled down in a line from Isaiah, older than the kefir grains preserving the milk on the counter. It’s older than time. It is of the foundation and that’s as solid as it gets.
“Come let us reason.”
It’s not “Just do what I say!” It isn’t, “Blindly follow me.” It isn’t, “Let me take you, use you, control you.” It is higher and bigger and breathtaking.
“Come let us reason.”
Engage the matter of your life and your outcomes with the outcomes of truth. Reason, dissect, use your intellect. God has nothing to hide.
