Ya know those mornings?

The ones when you feel like you're in fifth grade again? Back before the world was all explainable by "science"? (Nacho Libre, people, it's deeper than you think). Back before we had to see things from different perspectives... back before we knew there were different perspectives...

I like those mornings. Though I know they cannot last. Yesterday morning was one of those mornings. And coupled by the fact that it was election day, I definitely DID feel young and stupid again. I woke up early (it was Tuesday), and I "did my thing." Already, I knew yesterday was different. At the gym--aside from the fact that Kieth Urban, Garth Brooks, and James Taylor's faces were on about five different t-shirts--I could just sense people "pumping themselves up"...meaning more than on the bench press...

Yep. Election day. Nobody wants to talk about it, but everybody wants to know: "Who are YOU voting for?"
(Eh, now we know)

Well, I wasn't thinking about that question yet. I was at the gym. And my iPod was the only noise-making, thought-provoking thing ringing in my ear... I wasn't ready to face the world yet. I wanted to be in fifth grade again.

I got done at the gym and walked outside. FREEZING. But I loved it. I loved the smell. It smelled like snow... even though all the snow is very far away... (Mt. Shasta's calling my name)

When I was in fifth grade, it would start snowing halfway through the day. I'd sit in my little Christian school classroom, with my little Christian school classmates, and we'd pray our brains out that it would snow hard enough for school to be let out early. My mom was a teacher there, so my sisters and I would end up staying later anyway... but it was the principle of the thing. FREEDOM AND HOT CHOCOLATE. Yeah, I loved those days.

So anyway. Yesterday, I walked out of the gym, I smelled the winter cold, I saw the orange-red leaves, I heard the... whatever holiday seasons sound like (?)... and instantly, the election didn't matter, my homework didn't matter, my creaking knees didn't matter (yes, my knees creak already. It's a joint thing). All that mattered was... "You're my kid." I heard Him whisper it. I wish I could say He whispered it clearly--audibly--and that if I had a tape recorder in my pocket at the time, we could get it on the Stirring podcast, and millions of people would fall on their faces in worship because there would be no denying that this was the VOICE OF GOD(!) ...but it wasn't an audible whisper. My ears didn't hear it, per say. I didn't record it from my pocket. But my soul heard it. "You're my kid." I wonder how many times He says that in the day. I wonder how many holidays I'll have to live through to bring that realization back around again. I think He intends for me to hear that in my soul more often. And if He's saying that to me... then I can guarantee He's saying that to you too.

Sometimes, we just gotta stop and smell the... winter...

...and remember what it was like to pray for snow days.