As a life-long Southerner, I know we have a reputation for going bonkers at the mere possibility of snow. With the weatherman’s first suggestion it might happen, it’s all anyone can talk about. Schools are pre-emptively closed, weather apps are continually refreshed, and bread and milk are pillaged from grocery store shelves. And, this is before temperatures plummet or snowflakes begin to fall.

The sad, sad truth for us wishful thinkers is predictions don’t necessarily translate to precipitation. We usually get little more than a big ol’ pile of disappointment. I remember when my son was a senior in high school; class was canceled due to threats of a wintry mix, but when the forecasted day came, all we got was a dreary, cold rain. Thankfully, my son and I did get to see a snowman. Frozen was playing in theaters, and Elsa, Anna, and Olaf turned our frowns upside down and convinced us to let go of our gloomy dispositions. Plus, how could I be disappointed when I had such a special date?

This sort of disappointment is hard for friends from the North or West to understand. Y’all have so much snow, you wonder what it would be like never to have to shovel your sidewalks in the winter or worry about snow tires.

Well, many a Southerner had their dreams come true a few weeks ago during a once-in-a-lifetime event when it snowed where it usually doesn’t – not only where I live in the heart of Georgia, but even in coastal South Carolina, Florida, and Alabama.

Snow at the beach? An incredible, breathtaking marvel!

It didn’t last long, of course, but it sure brought a lot of joy and invited plenty of childlike play. Even one of my 60-something friends made a life-size snowman – well, technically a snowwoman, bedazzled in pink – in her front yard.

That extraordinary weather event (and the snow in my backyard) got me thinking about why so many of my Southern neighbors and I get ridiculously excited when it happens. I don’t think it’s complicated, really. Snow is rare and beautiful and absolutely magical to us. And, when magic falls from the sky, how can we not marvel at the wonder of it all?

Too often, we take for granted sweet gifts from God. Ordinary things like honey from bees and syrup from trees. A rainbow. A caterpillar’s transformation. Snow.

No doubt, friends who receive heavy snowfall are not going to feel the same about winter’s icy precipitation. For you, snow is common, a burden to be managed. But for Southerners, snow is a rarity, like a long-lost friend knocking at your door. You know her well, you miss her so much, and you’re giddy with excitement when you know she’s coming for a visit.

Sipping from my favorite mug full of hot chocolate and a mountain of whipped cream, I was captivated by the view of my yard. For the longest while, all I could do was sit and stare — everything blanketed in white, a stillness and hush that invited worship of its Creator. Beyond its beauty, that snow was a stunning reminder of the goodness and glory of God.

Maybe I’m just some kind of nature weirdo, but I felt like God wanted me to pay attention to what the snow was trying to tell me.

In the midst of quiet, the Holy Spirit reminded me of how Scripture often uses snow as a metaphor for purity and renewal. Isaiah 1:18 (NIV) proclaims, “Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow.” Snow seems to speak of grace that covers and transforms, of a fresh start that only God can provide.

It’s a beautiful picture of how He takes what is broken and makes it whole, clean, and new.

Snow slows life down in a way nothing else can. Roads close, routines pause, and the world quiets down. There’s an unspoken invitation to step away from busyness, to marvel at the Creator who rules over nature’s wonders. The air is sharper. Melting flakes sparkle like diamonds. And all of it reflects God’s glory.

Snow also invites play regardless of your age. I may not have joined a snowball fight, but I couldn’t resist packing snow into little balls. My social media feeds were full of snowmen and snow angels and snow cream. In Matthew 18:3 (NIV), Jesus says, “Unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.” When it snows, I notice Southerners – even grown-ups – recapturing childlike wonder. And, if God thinks becoming like a child is important, shouldn’t we?

We see that snowfall reflects God’s authority in passages like Job 37:6 (NIV) where we’re told, “He says to the snow, ‘Fall on the earth.’” The very existence of snowflakes, with their delicate patterns, speaks to a Creator who cares about every detail.

If He crafts something as fleeting as a snowflake with such care, how much more does He care for us, His children?

For Southerners (and maybe for all of us), snow can preach a sermon without a word being spoken. Its purity reminds us of God’s goodness and grace, its stillness calls us to worship and hear from Him, and its playfulness renews our childlike wonder. Like magic falling from the sky, snow whispers of a God who lavishes goodness on His creation, giving us moments that take our breath away and turn our hearts toward Him.

 

Listen to Robin’s devotion here or on the (in)courage podcast, available everywhere!

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