Thankful for manna?

Tonight it is snowing.
Yesterday it snowed.
And the day before that.
And the day before that.
"   "   "   "   "   "   " times pretty nearly every day since December first.
That's slightly exaggerated, but it comes close.

SNOW
Commonplace, yet it somehow finds its way into about a fifth of my Facebook page feeds, almost every discussion with stranger or friend alike, and puts the meteorologists on a tail spin to keep up with its erratic behaviour.

"It's so cold. It's not quite cold enough. If only there would be less snow, more plows on the road, no snow at all, if I didn't have to drive in it...."

I'm no angel, but I have had to smile inside so many times when I hear people gripe ABOUT THE WEATHER!!!  I'm sure it affects my personal routine and well-being much less than many other people, so I feel a little guilty to be so joyful at the wonderful white stuff.


These thoughts were somewhere in the recesses of my mind, then I read in my devotions this morning about the children of Israel.

They were needy and hungry.

God provided.

Small, white flakes fell in abundance from the heavens. (Sound familiar?)
Only it wasn't cold. It didn't melt.
It was to eat.
To provide sustenance and nourishment.

In the early days of December, it was novel, paradoxically to the first snow that is so enchanting. They scooped it up by greedy handfuls, crammed it in their mouths, and savoured its delicate sweetness. They praised. They rejoiced. They would not die, they would live.

But December came and went. The provision was the same. Dawn and nightfall brought the same goodness from the skies. Novel became mundane. Miracle became ordinary. Praise became complaint.

The onward march of January and February were etched with the story of a people who forgot the goodness of God, their own inadequacy, and their dependence on the one thing that was becoming so distasteful to them.

 And thousands of years later, in 2014, we haven't learned much differently.

The white stuff that heaven's canister keeps shaking down on the wintery world has become less and less of a marvel each day.

It means days off work, slippery travel, being stuck at home...

It means gifted time to pursue projects that usually occupy the back burner most or all of the time.
It means gratefulness for God's protection of arriving at a destination when roads are difficult to traverse.
It means the blessing of time to build and strengthen family relationships.
It means the ugliness of a fallen world is robed in a dazzling garb that mirrors the glorious light of the sun and moon. 

It means we are being provided for. The fluffy white will one day turn to wet, in a process that will probably fuel more weathergriping. But the wet will replenish the water table and nourish the ground we live off of. The cold will wipe out bacteria and bugs that often plague us during the milder winters.

JOY is 100% Jesus and 100% choice. I know, math doesn't like that ratio. Jesus wants to give us joy, even in the midst of the blizzard, but its our choice to accept it.

My challenge is to CHOOSE JOY. No. matter. what.

It's available for the taking.