By Linda J. Humes
“As every man hath received the gift, even so minister the same one to another, as good stewards of the manifold grace of God.” 1 Peter 4:10
Thanksgiving had just passed and Christmas was fast approaching. The skies took on an ashen gray color and the breeze cut to the bone. There was no doubt that winter had arrived. We woke one morning with a thin blanket of snow all around. School was delayed and the children ran anxiously to play. Red ears and noses bounced in and out of sight as snowball fights raged all around. Off to work I drove, careful of all the familiar curves and hills where ice glazed under the snow.
As I drove to town I saw clumps of snow fall from the electrical lines that trailed alongside and crossed over the street. The rising sun gave them a rhythm that caused them to fall in patterns – they seemed to be “playing,” falling in domino succession.
Next were the tree branches, warming just enough to drop entire branches of piled snow and dripping icicles. It put a smile on my face that remained throughout the day. It made me think of a large shaggy dog tossing snow from his coat as he fiercely shook.
After work I drove past the golf course. The snow was thinner, but the coating still clean and fresh – at least until I reached the farthest field. There were footprints and scoop marks across a 40’ circular area, down to mud and leaves. And in the very center stood a small snow man, no taller than 2’ – not exactly white, not exactly round, no where close to picture perfect. It was clear that the group that put this treasure together scrapped every possible flake, and a little mud, and a few leaves, and did the best they could do to pat it together.
The heads in every car that passed by turned to look. Smiles crossed their faces. Perhaps it brought memories of first snowmen, perhaps a time of freeness – playing in the snow and sharing a silly time. I thought of how long it must have taken and how proud some youngster must be to have “created” a small snowman.
For days after pieces remained. Melting took its toll, and all signs soon disappeared. I’ve thought about that snowman so many times. I thought about how we touch the lives of others, perhaps as a memory, perhaps as a time of freeness. I’ve thought that even when we’ve gone a little bit of us remains behind, sometimes for a brief time, sometimes as a lasting touch on the lives of another.
Soon there will be other days of snow and snowmen, but the memory of the first will always remain. Lord, help me to be a lasting memory, a lasting touch, in the lives of others – bringing a moment of peace and freeness. Let me be a little bit of YOU, spread throughout the world.
Linda J. Humes 
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