Practicing His Presence

I often think of Robert Frost's Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening as I trek out to the barn in the winter. I want to write my own poem about it, but as yet, have not. Snow does something to me. I find it to be quite indescribable, really. The hush that comes over the land when the snow is falling thick and soft is a balm. Then there is the dark, and the quiet is quieter still. I want to go there, wherever it is we are getting this taste of, when the snow is falling at night. It draws me, this place. It soothes me. It is a place of retreat. It is nothingness and everything. I don't want to just stop, I want to STAY.  I feel peace and soaring in my spirit all at the same time, and I'm not even sure how that can be. But I know it is God and for whatever reason He has chosen this as a gift to me. Through this peace, this tranquility, this joy, He is speaking to me. He is telling me BE THIS. Be peace and calm and beauty and delight to the ones I have given you. I cry because I know I don't always the way that I should, and of course I can't at all without Him. I am so thankful for this snow which is always there, falling gently, reminding me, compelling me. So I press on with the practicing of His presence. So that in the midst of pbj's, spilled fish food, and lost library books, I can be who He wants me to be. Stopping by the woods on a snowy evening and it's falling around me, this presence, as I pick up wet towels and match socks and knead bread. "When the ones I have in my care are hurt or mad or dawdling or forgetful, help me Lord to feel you and be in your presence. And help me to teach THEM to stop by the woods and  practice your presence by showing."