Snowflake Artist

I treated myself to coffee this morning. It was 8:45 and I stopped by the locally-owned Dunn Brothers on my way to work. A chocolate steamed nirvana, they call it. Espresso, chocolate, steamed milk, it was a mocha deluxe.

My window was rolled down still from the exchange of money, awaiting my coffee, but it didn’t feel too cold since the car heater was pumping out air beside me. Tiny snowflakes swirled in my window and landed on my car door. Feathery sequins sparkled on the grey door, stacking and piling on each other like slippery books. Suddenly a single flake caught my attention, since it had completed the fall unharmed. In a flawless circle, smaller than a pencil eraser, six perfect lines crisscrossed each other across the flake in impeccable symmetry. I peered down to get a better look. The symmetry was unblemished, and the artistry soon lost for any human eyes to see unmagnified. The beauty astounded me, until a voice asked, “What are you staring at?” Grinning and a bit embarrassed to have been peering so intently at my own door, I answered simply, “A beautiful snowflake,” took my coffee and left.

What an extravagant artist, I mused! With masterpieces just dripping from his fingertips that he could swirl paintings left and right, little caring that they would fly off my window or melt into oblivion on my car door. He created for the sheer sake of his own joy and glory, his masterpieces reflecting himself to the world. Snowflakes poised on my window for an instant before tumbling away.

A dear friend of mine is in the hospital poised on eternity as well. She is a grandma and has lived a long life. She knows the Master Artist and has joined him in his art at times. Her masterpieces are in stained glass pieces, children’s lives, adopted kids along the way, and a life of hard work and loyalty. I have hugged her, prayed with her, read the Artist’s letters to her, and told her how much I love her.

Now she too is poised on eternity, her beauty sparkling in the sun, bringing delight to those who see, and pointing to the Artist. Any minute, I know, she too will swirl away.

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1 Comment

  1. Anonymous on August 29, 2011 at 1:32 am

    I will never forget all the trips to Russia with Bonnie! Her luggage never made it to Russia. Poor Bonnie was such a trooper! We had to go into town to get her some underwear. I asked the clerk if she had some that would fit me (Bonnie and I were similar in size at that time). The clerk picked up a pair of undies, put both hands into the waist band and stretched them about 3 feet! I said I would take two please!

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