Good morning.

Forgive me for the fog I'm in as I sit at my desk, looking out the window it faces, where snow is falling in huge flakes. Just last night I remarked to my dog, "Isn't it nice that you have access to the grass again?" and now, in a few hours or so, he will once again be forced to do his business in the areas that get shoveled.

"Why the fog," you ask? I did not sleep last night. I was wide awake, tossing and turning, staring at the clock, praying for sleep, counting backwards, doing breathing exercises, willing myself to sleep, to no avail. I even got up and took a TylenolPM around 3AM. Sometime around 5:30 or so I must have dozed off, because I was in a light, foggy sleep when my alarm went off at 7. Now, having read some scripture and had some coffee, I am feeling better, but foggy. In a few moments, I will have a quick shower, get dressed and head in to work in Manhattan.

It is a rare event when I have such trouble sleeping. Usually, I am out soon after my head hits the pillow. So last night, at some point as I was lying there talking to my cat and dog (who were more than a little miffed at me for making so much noise - they were not having any trouble sleeping whatsoever), it occurred to me that there could be a purpose in my wakefulness. 

Prayer.

I began to go through a list of people and situations in my head, lifting each one of them to the throne of grace. "On my bed I remember you; I think of you through the watches of the night." (Ps 63:6) There is something sweet and holy about communing with the God "through the watches of the night." I thought of one friend in particular, another single woman in her 30's like me, who has lost both of her parents to cancer. I felt the weight of lonliness I imagine she feels sometimes - perhaps especially on nights when she cannot sleep - and prayed for her.

This morning, in my fog, I opened to the Psalms, and this was one of the first things I read: "A father to the fatherless, a defender of widows, is God in his holy dwelling. God sets the lonely in families..." (Ps 68:5-6)

He is faithful. He is provider. He is father. He is faithful.

I need his provision today; I trust it will come, and that it is already here. This city is not merciful to those who are weak, and I am weak today. I am sick and sleepy, and it is snowing and the sidewalks will be slick. I will stand at the bus stop, get on a crowded bus, walk to the ferry... to the subway... to my office in midtown. In my weakness today, he will be my strength. 

But for a moment now, everything else aside, I will marvel at how much snow is falling, and how much ground has been covered just since I started typing this little missive.

"For to the snow he says, 'Fall on the earth,'likewise to the downpour, his mighty downpour." Job 37:6

"Have you entered the storehouses of the snow,or have you seen the storehouses of the hail...?" Job 38:22

"Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean; wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow." Psalm 51:7

Even the snow exists chiefly to point me to God this morning. The heavens declare the glory of God. Loud and clear.

May all of us experience his strength and beauty, whether making our way through the snowy streets of New York City, or experiencing his majesty in some other way today.