Twenty-One Degrees Sounded Warm

What a winter for those of us stuckinindiana! We got a little snow in November & then MISSED a White Christmas... only to be hit with SNOW, SNOW, SNOW from that point on. My nesting mode is in high gear. The ice & snow has prevented my little yellow car from getting out on the road. My walk down the drive to the mail box could make a good clip for "families' funniest videos" -- forget about actually walking out on the country roads for exercise. Days where I've showered at 6pm to merely change into a fresh pair of pajamas have been the norm instead of a rarity. 

A tinge of pinkish-orange reflecting off the snow outside and onto my bedroom wall caught my attention. I'd been in jammies (my name for pajamas) ALL day. The morning & early afternoon had been spent caring for my favorite little baby-girl. The remainder of the afternoon had been spent telling myself that I really ought to get busy & do a few things around the house. At 5:50pm, I saw that color I love... and, I knew it was time for a little winter walkabout.

The outside temperatures have been horrid lately so, I checked the thermometer. It was a 21 degrees. That sounded SO warm after the sub-zero temps of days before. The jammies were exchanged for Cuddle Duds, sweats, etc... and I was out the back door to take a look at "My Father's World"...

The winds had swept a clean area along the side of our barn
and built up a tall snow bank
preventing me from walking directly to the field.

Frozen ruts now replaced the tracks made through soft snow by our
farmer neighbor when taking his grand-babies on sled rides last weekend.

Patches of ice reflected the colors that only God can paint.

A rainbow of colors decorated the eastern horizon
and distant farms were bathed in the colors of sunset.

The sun was almost gone... the colors would linger for a bit longer.

The cold began to take its toll on me.
I snapped another picture & turned toward the house.

Twenty-one degrees sounded warm... turns out it wasn't that night. In 20 minutes the sun had almost disappeared from the western horizon and, I was back inside my warm home eager to see what the lens had captured. The camera never gets the full impact of God's beauty. But, the photos I captured in this winter walkabout will always serve to remind me that this is my Father's world!

"The world is Mine, and all that is within it." Psalm 50:12

Loved this hymn as a little girl... love it still... 

This is my Father’s world, and to my listening earsAll nature sings, and round me rings the music of the spheres.This is my Father’s world: I rest me in the thoughtOf rocks and trees, of skies and seas;His hand the wonders wrought.

This is my Father’s world, the birds their carols raise,The morning light, the lily white, declare their Maker’s praise.This is my Father’s world: He shines in all that’s fair;In the rustling grass I hear Him pass;He speaks to me everywhere.

This is my Father’s world. O let me ne’er forgetThat though the wrong seems oft so strong, God is the ruler yet.This is my Father’s world: the battle is not done:Jesus Who died shall be satisfied,And earth and Heav’n be one.

This is my Father’s world, dreaming, I see His face.I ope my eyes, and in glad surprise cry, “The Lord is in this place.”This is my Father’s world, from the shining courts above,The Beloved One, His Only Son,Came—a pledge of deathless love.

This is my Father’s world, should my heart be ever sad?The lord is King—let the heavens ring. God reigns—let the earth be glad.This is my Father’s world. Now closer to Heaven bound,For dear to God is the earth Christ trod.No place but is holy ground.

This is my Father’s world. I walk a desert lone.In a bush ablaze to my wondering gaze God makes His glory known.This is my Father’s world, a wanderer I may roamWhate’er my lot, it matters not,My heart is still at home.

This is My Father's World Words: Malt­bie D. Bab­cock, 1901, alt. While a pas­tor in Lock­port, New York, Bab­cock liked to hike in an ar­ea called “the es­carp­ment,” an an­cient up­thrust ledge near Lock­port. It has a mar­vel­ous view of farms, or­chards, and Lake On­tar­io, about 15 miles dis­tant. It is said those walks in the woods in­spired these lyr­ics. The ti­tle re­calls an ex­press­ion Bab­cock used when start­ing a walk: “I’m go­ing out to see my Fa­ther’s world.”Music: Terra Beata, tra­di­tion­al Eng­lish mel­o­dy, ar­ranged by Frank­lin L. Shep­pard in his Al­le­lu­ia, 1915 (MI­DI,score).

Linking with Ann Voskamp - A Holy Experience today...