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by bwalters

I've never been friends with winter; no, I've never been fond of the cold.
See, I don't like when the snow falls, that it's something I can't control.
And the frigid winds, they chill me, deep down to the bone.
I shiver and I shake until I feel I've turned to stone.
But there's something about the valley that helps me see the truth.
The snow is just as much a gift as the years of our youth.
Though it pains me to admit it, the snowfall is able to soothe;
It forces me to repent for the ways in which I remain uncouth.
From one ridge to the other, the valley lies unstirred,
Except for where there might have landed a hungry deer or bird.
The blanket of pure white reminds me that my prayers are answered,
And that He died on a cross for my expensive sins to be covered.
Perhaps the snowfall is there to remind us of the beauty in His sacrifice.
And that His death was heartless - colder than the fallen ice.
Yet, He endured the will of His Father and paid the ultimate price.
Against the blood-red barn, we see He paved the way to Paradise.

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